


Buffy: The Space-Time Anomaly Slayer

by Catlorde



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 151,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22038325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catlorde/pseuds/Catlorde
Summary: Names can carry a lot of meaning. They can shape your future and make you brave. When she chose her name after finding herself in another reality, she named herself after one fictional character to deal with another. Because when you find yourself in the Doctor's Universe, you need all the courage you can get.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/OC, Eleventh Doctor/Original Female Character, Eleventh Doctor/Original Female Character(s), Ninth Doctor/OC, Ninth Doctor/Original Female Character, Ninth Doctor/Original Female Character(s), Tenth Doctor/OC, Tenth Doctor/Original Female Character, Tenth Doctor/Original Female Character(s), The Doctor/OC, The Doctor/Original Character(s)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 184





	1. Mirrors

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~  
** _

_**Chapter One: Mirrors** _

_**~0~0~0~  
.** _

Cold.

So cold.

The ground was cold.

Rough and wet and cold.

Everything hurt. Deep, dull ache. 

Like I had been hit by a very large truck.

Had I been hit by a truck? Don’t remember a truck. 

A bus? Don’t remember that either. Maybe it was a University bus. 

At least if it had been a University bus, the school would have to wave tuition. 

I groaned painfully. Stupid. Cold and in pain, but thinking about getting a slightly cheaper education. Though at least then we wouldn’t have to worry about covering whatever medical care I was surely going to need - 

Stop thinking about money, you dumb bitch.

Where was I? I curled my fingers and grasped at whatever substance I found between them. 

My right hand found cool, pliable stuff that was simultaneously rough and smooth. Grass. Probably grass. I tugged at it feebly and a few pieces came away with a recognizable squeaky-breaking noise. Definitely grass.

Left hand. Rough. Hard. Cold. Rocks. I ran my hand over them and felt them roll under my palm. Not smooth like river rocks. More like gravel, but not concrete. 

My neck ached because my head wasn’t exactly aligned with my shoulders, suggesting that I was laying on my stomach; the pressure on my chest and abdominals confirmed this theory, aching like they were, as if I had been laying on them for a while. 

I straightened up my head, the gravel scraping uncomfortably under my chin, and opened my eyes.

Everything was blurry. Through the fog in my brain I could decipher the cool, soft, faint light of my surroundings. Soft grey-blue, like outside right before sunrise or just after sunset. I blinked a few times and the ground right before my face shifted into focus. Grass, medium length, like someone had cut it at one point but hadn’t bothered with it in a few months. 

There was a path, too, a gravel path. Too small for cars to pass down it, but appropriate for a casual hike. 

A few feet away: bushes and trees. Dark scraggly branches twisted together to form a single, giant mass of twigs and leaves that only allowed a small amount of light to trickle through.

Slowly, painfully, I worked my hands and knees under my body and pushed myself up into a sort of sitting position as every single damned muscle and joint popped and ached and cracked in protest, like I was a thousand years old and hadn’t moved once in that entire span of time.

Nevertheless, I was up, and I was alone. From my new kind-of-upright position I could see that I was roughly halfway down a very tall, very steep hill. 

“Hello…?” My voice was every bit as worn as my body, barely registering as a hoarse whisper. 

The coughs that forced their way out next were louder than my attempt at speech. Phlegm and mucus were stripped roughly away from my throat by the harsh, productive hacks, leaving me even more exhausted and uncomfortable than I had been before. 

I didn’t recognize this place, nor did I have any memory of how I got here. 

My drowsy brain ticked through the possibilities.

I didn’t drink; hated the taste of alcohol. 

Party? Doubtful. I didn’t have many friends, nor did I particularly enjoy social gatherings.

Kidnapping? More likely, though the idea still had some holes in it. I really didn’t go out much; class, dining hall, dorm. Not a lot of opportunities to be caught unawares, though that didn’t really mean anything, it wouldn’t be particularly hard to slip some kind of drug or whatever into my food or drink. 

But where had I been taken? It would be hard to grab someone in broad daylight on a densely populated college campus, with students and cops milling about. 

From my dorm? Even less likely. There was 24 hour security at the door. Surely someone would have noticed something.

Right?

I sighed and rubbed my face, too exhausted to panic. 

Okay, first, check for injuries.

I turned my foggy attention to my body and was immediately confused. I was dressed a long, almost-robe thing that came to my knees and pants. Both garments were scarlet with gold trim. I pulled at them in confusion. 

Had I been at a costume party? 

I stopped pulling at the robe and ran my hands over my body. Although sore, I couldn’t find any open wounds or broken bones. There was something off about me, except I couldn’t _quite_ put my finger on it. 

I ran my fingers through my hair in agitation. My head had cleared somewhat, leaving room for panic to worm its way in. It didn’t help that when I ran my fingers through my hair, I discovered that it was significantly longer than it had been, by several feet. Last I remembered, my hair had just been long enough to touch my shoulders. Now, it draped all the way down my back. And it was NOT the same color. Why was it red? It’s supposed to be brown! 

I bit my tongue sharply to steady myself. Process first. Questions later.

Second: Phone.

After frantically patting myself down for pockets, a quick glance behind me revealed a bag. A book bag. Grey, blue, and purple with a broken strap that had been tied back together. My book bag. I fumbled for it clumsily, muscles still not fully cooperating. My shaking fingers struggled with the zipper for a solid ten seconds before managing to get the center pocket open. I reached in, feeling for my purse, which theoretically should have been inside. 

Instead, my fingers came into contact with the cool, smooth texture of something metal. I retracted my hand and studied the object. 

It was some kind of medallion on a chain; gold and a shade larger than a half-dollar coin. 

I flipped it over in my palm to study the markings on the other side. Circles, lines, and dots danced across the metal, sweeping in and out of each other elegantly to form a design that resembled the inner mechanisms of a clock; a design that was altogether very, very familiar. 

Weirdly familiar. I’d seen them before. I wracked my tired mind for the design’s origin, but the only word it would produce was ‘shiny’. 

Oh. Wait. _Doctor Who._

I stared at the medallion again. A useless trinket; probably something someone got me for Christmas or whatever. I couldn’t remember when I got it or who had given it to me, but honestly not being able to recall that sort of trivia was significantly less alarming than the fact that I had no idea where I was. 

I traced the complex designs again with my thumb, this time more for comfort than curiosity. The digit strayed to the medallion’s center, where a single red ornate jewel sat, a gleaming scarlet fire.

As soon as I touched it, blinding white light flooded my vision and burned into my brain.

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

_I was looking into a mirror._

_No idea how I knew it was a mirror, it just was._

_I was in an overwhelmingly white room._

_A girl stared out at me from the reflective surface, her face blank but expressive, young but wise._

_Red hair. Blue eyes._

_Intelligent blue eyes._

_Those eyes had a story to tell._

_No, not a story._

_A mission._

_A mission for me. A purpose._

_I glared at her and she glared back._

_The bright blue eyes were sharp and cold. Devoid of any form of compassion or warmth._

_An anxious tingle pricked it’s way up my spine._

_I couldn’t trust her._

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

The searing light receded like an ocean tide, leaving me gasping like I had been drowning in the watery depths, numb and weak. 

All emotions had drained from my head, but I was no longer confused; temporarily, at least. No doubt the numbness would fade and panic would reestablish its hold. But for now, it didn’t matter.

I went back to the bag, now digging through it with purpose. Inside was a variety of objects, all of which I ignored, save for the smallish black rectangle. A card, credit or debit, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care.

The bag was thrown up on my shoulder roughly as I scrambled to my feet and started walking. 

Once again, I didn’t think about what I was doing. I might as well have been on autopilot. Up the bank and into an unfamiliar town, across unfamiliar roads, and around unfamiliar buildings, weaving between the scraggly number of people already up and moving about in the early morning sun. I traversed the foreign city like I had lived in it my entire life, scarcely giving thought to the cars and people I passed on my unknown yet predetermined course.

The destination was a hotel. I had never seen it before, but I knew that the tall building was where I was supposed to be. I ambled foggily through the sliding doors and up to the lady at the front desk.

“Good morning, love,” the dark haired woman greeted, cheerful despite her groggy disposition and giant cup of steaming coffee. “Need a room?”

I hummed in assent and passed her the black card, which she took without further comment. She passed it back along with a key, receipt, and an overly cheery, “Enjoy your stay!”

Giant grey spots were beginning to cloud my vision as I took the elevator up to the fourth floor. It was all I could do to stagger down the hallway and unlock the door. Once in, I slammed the door shut behind me, curled up under the covers, and promptly passed out.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

The bed was so soft. And warm. I felt so tired and heavy, like I should after a long, deep sleep. 

For the second time that day, I opened my eyes slowly to blearily survey my foggy surroundings and have no idea where I was. 

I had convinced myself that it had all been a dream. A sick, bizarre dream. For those sweet, first few minutes of consciousness, I had thought that I was going to wake up in my own bedroom. But those few minutes passed and reality started to sink in. 

I sat bolt upright, ignoring my screaming muscles, and gazed around in shock. 

The room was the standard for an average hotel room; consisting of a bed with white blankets, an oldish television, a mini fridge, an armchair, and a bathroom situated between the main area and the door. 

My gaze flickered to the window. I immediately untangled myself from the sheets and scrambled over to it, yanking the curtains to the side.

I was in a city, or rather, near the edge of it. A somewhat familiar skyline stretched across the view.

“Is that… London?” I asked aloud. 

When no one answered, I scoured the room briefly for the flyers and brochures that hotel rooms usually put out. I found a few beside the TV. Titles like: _Explore London!_ and _Places to Visit in London!_ and _Where to Eat in London!_ jumped out of the otherwise useless pieces of paper. 

“Really? London? Are you fucking kidding me?” I snarled softly. 

I started pacing the room again, trying to get my head around the fact that I had somehow made it from America all the way to freaking London, when suddenly the long reddish hair swished into my face.

I made a frantic dash for the bathroom to look in the mirror.

Screaming had never been my thing, no matter how terrified I was. Now was no exception. So instead of crying out in shock, I clamped ‘my’ hand over ‘my’ mouth and tried to back away from the mirror. Or at least until my heels abruptly came into contact with the edge of the bathtub, sending me crashing down inside of it, taking the shower curtains with me.

It was _her_. The girl in the dream mirror, she was in this mirror too. 

Ignoring my now aching head, I hauled myself out of the basin and crawled across the bathroom floor. I slowly pulled myself up in front of the sink, using the cold white marble counter for support. 

“Who are you?” I demanded stupidly, half expecting her to reply. In the dream, or vision, or whatever it was she would have. But now she just stared back out at me, horror written all over her features.

I pulled up the image of the Mirror Girl in my mind’s eye and compared her to the person in the mirror now. She looked exactly the same. Dull red hair that trailed all the way down her back, large blue eyes that were slightly too close together, a pale narrow face, lush lips, and an agonizingly thin body.

Mirror Girl explored herself with delicate hands starting at her face, down to her neck, over her breasts, and finally down to her hips.She was thin, painfully so, to the point of emancipation. She turned in the mirror for a side view and I did the same.There were differences between her then and her now. The first time I saw her, her eyes were old; confident and unsettling. Now they were young and frightened, sunken in and underlined by dark circles. 

“Why am I in your body?” I asked again, desperation entering my voice. “What was wrong with mine?” 

I shuddered when I received no reply and turned off the bathroom light. When I walked out of the bathroom I made a mental note to never look in the mirror again. Even when I had to use the bathroom, I was leaving the lights off.

My book bag was laying in the middle of the floor, right where I had abandoned it carelessly when I came in. Now I picked it up and dumped its contents on the bed. It turned out to be quite a lot. My purse, phone, laptop, and an unrealistic number of clothes and shoes tumbled out, accompanied by several objects that I didn’t immediately recognize. 

I picked up my phone. No signal. Figures. 

I threw it carelessly to the side and began going through the objects in the ‘other’ pile.

The first object was the medallion. I picked it up and stared at it for a second. It was what triggered the hallucination-vision-dream-thing. I caressed the red jewel again but nothing happened. I felt a flash of rage. 

“What do you want me to do?” I cried, throwing the gold trinket at the nearest wall. It bounced off with a metallic thump.

I borrowed my face in my hands in frustration. The echoes that the vision had left behind floated their way to the front of my mind. I stiffened. 

I threw myself back at the bathroom and, ignoring the promise I had made minutes before, smacked on the light and confronted the mirror.

“It was a fucking TV show!” I snarled at the girl. “A FUCKING TV SHOW!" 

I stood there, watching the girl pant while I tried to catch my breath. My heart was racing and I couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen to keep up.

“The Doctor isn’t real,” I told her again, calmer now, though condescending poison still dripped from my words. “He’s a fictional character. From a TV show. He isn’t an actual person. He’s a character. Played by actors, every move planned out by writers.” 

The girl didn’t look convinced, no matter how much I wanted her to be. 

I gave up trying to reason with her and wandered back into the main room, chewing my lip and hoping the other hotel residents wouldn’t complain about my outbursts.

The girl had told me what had happened and what I needed to do, all without moving her lips. This was a different universe, and I had to find the Doctor. Help him. Serve my purpose. 

What purpose was that, again? 

I frowned. She hadn’t said. 

A dry, humorless laugh forced its way from my lips. 

Absurd. 

Even if this was another universe, and he was real, what the hell was I supposed to do to help him? 

I was no Rose Tyler. I wasn’t brave. I wasn’t smart. I wasn’t witty, quick thinking, or brilliant in any way. The exact opposite, actually. I was a socially anxious geek that stammered and trembled in any new sort of social experience. I sucked at on-the-spot situations, poorly handled stress, and had a tendency to break down under pressure.

I laughed again, though this time it came out more as a sob. I was literally the definition of someone that the Doctor _would not_ want to travel with.

I bit my tongue and composed myself. I wasn’t even fully convinced that this _was_ the Doctor’s universe. 

I turned to my laptop and opened it. Thankfully, this place did have wifi, even if it was slow. 

Research. One thing I _did_ know how to do.

I searched ‘ _Doctor Who’._ Nothing useful came up.

 _‘Doctor Who TV Show’._ Nothing.

Then I stopped. What year was it? I had no idea. What if the show hadn’t even started yet?

I typed ‘ _Today’s date’._

January 18th. 2004.

2004.

Two thousand fucking four.

I had been in March, 2018. 

No. No way. 

I shoved the laptop to the side and went to my door to peer out into the hallway. A middle aged man was unlocking his door.

“Excuse me?” I asked tentatively. 

“Hmmm?” He looked up expectantly, eyebrows raised in polite curiosity.

“I’m sorry, but uhh…” I stammered, my voice sounded strange. 

Holy shit, I'm British. “What’s today’s date? Year and all… I’m uhh…”

“A bit hungover?” He finished in a distinctly British accent.

“Yeah. Hungover.”

He laughed. “January. The eighteenth of. 2004, last I checked. Must’ve been some party, eh?”

“Something like that,” I answered numbly. “Thanks.”

I slunk back to my room and sunk back down in front of my computer. Fine. If it was 2004, and the TV show didn’t exist, how could I know that I was in the Doctor’s universe?

I wracked my brain. Characters. They would be real people here, people I could search. 

_Rose Tyler._ Nothing really came up, but I wasn’t exactly surprised. She hadn’t exactly been important in 2004.

Who was kind of important?

 _Harriet Jones._ There it was. MP for Flydale North. Exactly like the show. I chewed my lip. Who else?

 _Pete Tyler._ He had died. There could be an obituary somewhere. A death record, news article, something to indicate his death. I found it. A few lines in a news article. _Man killed in Hit and Run. Peter Tyler is remembered by wife Jackie Tyler and their daughter, Rose._

Then there you go. Pete, Rose, and Jackie. They existed here. 

I chewed my lip again. If I were to think in sci-fi terms, what could be off? 

Was I, the person I remembered being, even real? 

I dug out my phone. Pictures. 

They were all there, exactly like I left them. I scrolled through picture after picture of my cats, my dog, my parents, friends, and brothers. They were all there. 

I instantly regretted not having more pictures of myself. I hated having my picture taken. My face had been round and my smile thin. Not ugly, just not photogenic. Almost the exact opposite to the bony, angular body I was in now, which was also not photogenic for a completely different set of reasons.

Finally, I found a few. A couple of me and my best friend making goofy faces at the camera. Another of me playing with a toy lightsaber. Posing with my favorite dog way back before she died of old age. 

I existed too. My version of reality did. That expelled my concerns of hallucinating my entire life. 

My attention returned to the items in the ‘other’ pile. Time to go through it properly. 

I found the credit card again. Turning it over and over again in my hand, I discovered that it didn’t have any numbers on it, it was just a black piece of plastic. So how had it worked for the lady at the desk? 

Better question: what made me think that it was a credit card? 

Well, I was in the Whoniverse, so assuming that the object was a psychic credit card wasn’t all that far fetched.

Psychic credit card. So what else? 

A black wallet caught my eye. I picked it up and flipped it open to see the white paper inside the plastic. 

It read. ‘Yes. It’s psychic paper’.

I couldn’t help but let out a disbelieving laugh.

Then my attention turned to a silver metal object. It looked like a thick, silver pen. 

After writing a few scribbles on my palm, I was able to conclude that it was, in fact, a pen. At the end opposite to the point was a dark purple stone, making the object look kind of like… 

“Please?” I pleaded as I fiddled with the object. 

The thing twisted in my hand, revealing that if I twisted it like one of those pens that you twisted instead of clicked, both the writing tip would retract and the other side would spin up to reveal a tiny display screen. “Come on. Please.”

I extended my arm, pointed the pen at the TV, pressed a button on the side, and thought _ON._

Much to my excitement, the TV turned on. 

I gave a little squeak of delight. Sonic pen. Yes. 

The next few minutes were whittled away by me experimenting with my new toy. I found out that I could turn the TV to specific channels, gauge the temperature of the fridge, and make all the car alarms on the other side of the road go off all at once. 

I grinned maliciously as I watched the people on the street running around in confusion, trying to figure out the cause of the alarms. With a point of the pen, I turned the alarms all off again, making the people on the streets even more confused.

The remaining objects were of a more realistic nature. Eight bottles of water, two boxes of protein bars, a few packs of crackers - and even more bizarre - six pairs of shoes… 

I stopped examining the shoes and peered back into the bag. The inside looked like the normal inside of a book bag. But there was no way all of that had fit in there, especially since the thing hadn’t even been heavy before I’d emptied it.

A bag that was bigger on the inside. Very Doctor Who-y.

… Six pairs of shoes, including converse, combat boots, silver high heels, tennis shoes, a black pair of flats, and a purple pair of ankle boots. Shoes for every occasion (roughly).

A first aid kit was also included. Upon opening it I discovered things that I did recognize - like band aids, antibacterial ointments, aloe, etc - but then there was a weird scanner-y thing, like something out of Star Trek. There was also what appeared to be a hypospray - also very Star Trek - and a variety of small vials full of colorful liquid. Luckily, they were labeled with uses, like ‘headache’ and ‘diarrhea’.

I made a face at the ‘diarrhea’ vial and set them to the side. 

There were numerous sets of clothes that were, like the shoes, for a variety of occasions. A couple vintage tees, a leather jacket, a sweatshirt, a heavy jacket, a gorgeous purple dress, a sparkling silver dress, several pairs of skinny jeans, a few sweaters, underwear, and a pair of pajamas. At least I wouldn’t have to go shopping. 

At the bottom of the clothes pile was a thick roll of cash kept together by a rubber band. 

I shoved the extensive pile of things off the bed and onto the floor - except for the phone, computer, and screwdriver, of course - and settled back on the pillows to think.

“Okay… it’s okay,” I said aloud. “When you find the Doctor, he’ll sort it all out. He’s a genius… he’ll understand.”

So what’s next?

“I have to find him. How do I do that?”

Foreknowledge.

I made my mouth into a little ‘o’. 

As long as this reality followed the show, I could probably work out where he would be when. I was in London, so that was a start. The Doctor was almost always in London. And if this was 2004, the next time I for-sure knew he would be here was…

2005.

“Fuck.”

It was January 2004. 

“That’s a whole year! What am I going to do until then?”

The panic I had been staving off came back in full force. 

I was eighteen. I was in college, living in the dorms, but I had never _actually_ been on my own before. My mom still made my appointments, gave me money, and helped to make all of my important decisions. Now I was on my own. Really on my own.

NOW the panic set in, accompanied by grief and dread. 

Would I ever see them again? The tenth Doctor had made it very clear that traveling across the universes was next to impossible. I mean, I had got here, but that was no guarantee of getting back.

I started to cry. It was all too much. I wasn’t going to see them again. Sure, there was a chance, but it was the tiniest of chances. And even then it would be easily over a year before it even became an option. 

Might as well accept it now.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

Once I had hiccuped myself into silence I wiped my eyes and grit my teeth. 

I had to find the Doctor. That was the only thing I _could_ do. The entire year was a good thing; it gave me plenty of time to prepare. Prepare and adjust.

He would be in London some time in 2005. But where? 

I smacked myself in the forehead. 

I had the episodes, damnit. They were on my laptop. I had downloaded them all from a bootleg site ages ago in a fit of rage after they had been taken off of Netflix. All of the new series, from season one to season ten, were at my fingertips. All of the information I could ever need.

I started with episode one of season one. _Rose._ I picked through every piece of that episode. Over and over again. Nothing passed unnoticed, not a piece of paper, not a building sign, not a person. I _had_ to get this right. Very little room for error. One wrong building, one wrong location, could mean the difference between an entire year. 

I wasn’t going to miss it.

**_~0~0~0~_**

**_._ **


	2. Fourteen Months

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~  
** _

_**Chapter Two: Fourteen Months** _

_**~0~0~0~  
.** _

I paid the cab driver and stepped out into the sunny street. Flowered bushes lined the walkways surrounding the uniform red brick townhouses with white trim.

The street was fairly familiar. I had seen it on _Doctor Who._ The first episode of the new series. _Rose._

I had started to lose my mind a bit after the first few months. Doubts about my understanding of the situation had plagued my every thought until I had been on the verge of a breakdown. 

Confirmation. That’s what I’d needed. That’s what I was here for.

I paced down the street slowly, checking every address twice before moving on. I got some strange looks, but I was more concerned with knocking on the correct door than I was with looking like a weirdo.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

The months had ticked by slowly. I learned a whole new meaning for the word _patience_ as well as a whole new low for the mental health bar. 

Yeah, depression, anxiety, and identity crisis’ became a common occurrence in my daily life.

It hadn’t taken me long to locate the buildings that Jackie and Rose lived in. I couldn’t stay in a hotel for a year, so I made the decision to move into one of the apartments near the Tyler residence pretty quickly. 

From there, I would get a job to occupy my time and wait it out. 

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

The correct address, scrawled in silver on a black metal plate, danced into view. 

How could I be certain that the Doctor existed? 

Rose and her family existed, but it got to the point where that wasn’t enough. Was this really like the universe I had seen on TV? 

I needed someone to tell me. I needed to talk to someone. But who could give me a straight answer?

My first thought had been Jack Harkness.

Jack was funny and kind, at least on _Doctor Who,_ anyway. I was sure that he would be happy to help if I asked.

Except I had no idea how to find him.

Well, I _did_ . He was working for Torchwood now, right? That was canon in both _Doctor Who_ and _Torchwood._

I had researched a travel plan to Cardiff and had even packed my bag before chickening out. 

What if I got it wrong? I couldn’t just show up at Torchwood and claim to be from another universe, with Jack’s support or not. What if Jack refused to see me for the sake of continuity? What if he just didn’t want to see me at all?

I knew I was being stupid, but I had let my mind run away with me, so there was no going back. 

I wasn’t ready to stick my neck out. 

Despite all I had been through, I literally could not handle the thought of meeting Captain Jack Harkness in the flesh. He was too important- and too fictional. I wasn’t ready for that yet.

So that’s how I ended up standing in the exact place Mickey’s yellow car had sat, would sit, when Rose would visit Clive in a few month’s time.

I grit my teeth decisively and knocked on the door.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

One of the biggest obstacles I had faced was me. As in, both my personality and my new body.

For starters, I needed to grow up. The old me was not one that would do well in the world of aliens and time travel. I had to learn how to cope with getting out of my comfort zone and build some kind of self confidence- especially since I had none.

Secondly, I was not okay with wearing the face of the Mirror Girl. I needed to be me, even if ‘me’ wasn’t the person that I was originally. So how was I supposed to have my own identity while hating my old personality and my new face?

Well, by creating someone else.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

There was a bit of a scuffle and shuffling around inside the house before a woman, presumably the curly haired woman with the laundry from the episode, Clive’s wife, elected to answer the door.

“Hello?” She asked cheerfully. “Can I help you?”

I plastered on my best smile and pretended to have never seen her before.

“Hi! I’m looking for Clive? I emailed him about the Doctor?”

Clive’s wife surveyed me curiously before smiling amicably and turning to call for her husband.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

Naturally, with me being… me, my mind had gone to _Star Wars_ for advice. 

“Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to.”

So that’s what I did. I took my past self and I killed her. 

Not actually, of course. But she had to go. The only way I was going to cope is if I wasn’t her any more.

I started with getting my hair cut. The red Rupunzel thing wasn’t working for me, so I had it cut into a lob similar to how I had it in the other universe. Then, for good measure, I had the stylist put in purple underlights, something I never would have done with my parents around.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

“He must be back in his shed,” Clive’s wife informed me as she opened the door for my admittance. “If you just want to come through here.” 

The curly headed woman guided me through a sitting room and out into an unfamiliar yard to a slightly more recognizable shed. 

“Really, a pretty girl like you reading a website about the Doctor?” She chatted pleasantly. 

“Yeah, well, you know,” I laughed wearily.

“Clive? You’ve got a visitor,” the woman called into the structure. 

The door swung open immediately, revealing the chubby man with a round, friendly face. 

“Hello, I’m Clive, if you hadn’t already guessed” he greeted with his trademark awkward cheer, extending a hand for me to shake. 

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

That night I spent a long time staring at myself in the hotel mirror, resting my elbows on the sink. 

About an hour previously, I had decided that I needed a new name. My old one simply wouldn’t do - every time I started to say it in my head the echoes of my friends and family saying it would ring in my ears, dredging up the pain that I would rather stay suppressed.

So, my next hours were spent on the cold tile of the bathroom floor with my laptop, browsing for names and occasionally popping my head up over the counter to see if I looked like a (insert whatever name was on the computer screen).

It was weird, picking my own name. I had been on baby naming websites for the creation of fictional characters before, but never for a real person and definitely never for myself.

I wanted something that carried personal meaning. 

After ages of dicking around, I ended up testing out the names of fictional characters - it seemed fitting, since I was in what had once been a fictional world. 

Star Trek. Star Wars. Supernatural. Sherlock. Harry Potter. Etc. Nothing stuck. The problem was that I wanted a nerdy name that couldn’t easily be identified as a nerdy name. I didn’t look like a ‘Hermione’ anyway.

Then I stumbled upon something interesting: The show _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ didn’t exist here. For some reason, it never got started up. 

Buffy was a badass, but no one other than me knew it here.

I stood tall in that bathroom mirror and said out loud to the girl in it. It fit. She didn’t look like Mirror Girl anymore. She looked like a Buffy. 

_God_ , I thought, _I am such a nerd._ And not in a good way.

I spent ten minutes randomizing last names until I found something that sounded good with Buffy.

Reid. Buffy Reid. That had a nice ring to it.

I was Buffy Reid.

I _am_ Buffy Reid.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

“And you must be Buffy,” Clive finished, stepping back so I could enter the shed-turned-conspiracy-man-cave. 

“That’s me,” I confirmed amicably. 

“Sorry that I had to ask you to come here,” he continued, pacing around a tall wooden workbench that was covered with stacks of papers. “But I was worried about sending this stuff to you online. It’s all very weird, and seems like the stuff people would intercept.”

“But I take it I’m not the first person you’ve shown it to?” I asked absently, picking up a sheet and scanning it without actually reading what it said.

“No, I’ve had a couple of people look at it before. There was even this one group of people, fans of the Doctor, they said. Bit obsessive, if you ask me.” Clive laughed. “Which is saying something, coming from me.”

“You’re not obsessed?”

“Well, I suppose. But the people that came in, they practically worship the man. I just want answers.”

“Me too.”

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

I wish I could say that I handled the next few months as well as I handled those first few days.

Buffy Reid was a strange person, caught somewhere between a fictional character and someone that already existed. She was skittish but aggressive. Awkward but flirty. Daring but timid.

I had never made my own doctor’s appointment before this, so how was I supposed to handle renting an apartment?

After literal _hours_ of mental prep. I did it. 

I had never been to a bar before, but Buffy sure as hell went to a few - rocking the purple dress (which fit her like a dream). I had never been on a date, but Buffy went to dinner with a guy and home with him afterwards. Then another time with a woman.

I was two different people playing tug-o-war with a body, and I had to let Buffy win most of the battles. 

I’m no psychiatrist, but I’m pretty sure that I was displaying signs of some kind of bizarre multiple personality disorder. All I could do was hope that some form of middle ground would solidify.

And somewhere around month ten, it did. 

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

“Right, so here we go,” Clive retrieved a file folder from a shelf. “If you dig deep enough, the Doctor keeps cropping up all over the place. Political diaries, conspiracy theories, and even ghost stories. No first name, no last name, just ‘the Doctor’.”

“And you think it’s the same person?” I asked carefully, already knowing the answer.

Clive nodded. “Yeah, just look here.” He held out the folder to display the same pictures of the Ninth Doctor that he would show Rose in a few months. At the Kennedy assassination, with a family that very nearly sailed on the Titanic, a drawing right before Pompeii erupted. “Is that the man you saw?”

“Yeah,” I murmured. 

“Though, mind you, it could be a little more realistic,” Clive tried to reason, “a title passed down from father to son, that sort of thing.”

“But you don’t believe that,” I interrupted, “and neither do I. A man doesn’t look exactly the same as his great-great grandson. That isn’t how genes work.”

“Exactly.” Clive began to get excited, feeding off the energy generated from talking with a seemingly like-minded person. “I think he’s the same man. An immortal.”

Looking at the pictures was interesting. When I had seen the pictures on the episode, they were very obviously photoshopped. The Doctor’s picture hadn’t matched the surroundings, it was just sort of melted in with all the ability of a medium budget BBC show in 2005. But now it looked very real. The Doctor wasn’t staring at the camera in the same position that the fake image had been, he was looking at Kennedy and the parade like a spectator should be. He looked real. He looked alive. 

“The Doctor is a legend woven throughout history,” Clive started his dramatic spiel. He must have practiced it, as it was the same as he would give Rose. “When disaster comes, he’s there. He brings the storm in his wake. Always with one constant companion.”

Instead of giving Clive his dramatic ‘death’ moment, I decided to deviate from the script.

“Or maybe he’s in the storm’s wake, “ I murmured.

“What?” Clive asked, thrown off by the comment. 

I looked up from the picture of the Doctor at the Kennedy assassination. “You said ‘he brings the storm in his wake.’ But that’s not right. He follows the storm, it doesn’t follow him. Not all the time, at least.”

“What makes you say that?” Clive inquired with a fascinated, if not slightly suspicious, expression.

Crap. I had to force myself not to wince. Just started, and I had already given away too much.

I tried a vague shrug. “Just seems more likely. He didn’t exactly cause the Titanic to sink or Krakatoa to erupt. Looks more like he’s following chaos, not than the other way around.”

Clive seemed satisfied with the answer, but I could see the conspiracy-theory geared mind of his beginning to toy with the idea that I knew more about the Doctor than I was telling. 

“That’s enough of my story,” the round man tried to follow up on whatever his new suspicions were. “Tell me about what got you so interested in the Doctor.”

Fuck.

“Is this man,” I jabbed the picture of Nine with my right pinkie, “the only one that appears in correlation with the Doctor? Or are there others?”

“No, actually! He’s just the one I have the most evidence of.” Clive dropped his guard again and began bustling around for other papers. “I just didn’t want to frighten you off with over-the-top ideas. There are more.” 

He opened up a folder and held it out for me to see. Pictures of Four, Eight, Ten, and Eleven danced before my eyes in a whirlwind of laminated paper and over-enthusiastic explanations from Clive. 

“...I was starting to think that it’s a group of people. An organization of some kind. Maybe, or-”

“They’re all the same person,” I finished dryly.

“Maybe,” Clive acknowledged solemnly. “People don’t usually pick that up. How’d you think that?”

I’d done it again. I was about to backtrack once more, but then I remembered what would happen when the Doctor came to town. Near the end of the episode, Clive had died. 

Guilt prickled in my chest. This wasn’t a TV show. Clive _would_ die. He was _real._ A _real_ person with a wife and kids.

“Just a guess,” I murmured vaguely. I flipped the folder shut with an air of finality. “Thanks for letting me go through your stuff, but I should get going.”

Clive deflated a bit. “Oh. Well… I’ll walk you out.”

I followed Clive back through his house to the front door. 

I had stepped out onto the walkway with a swimming head and a heavy heart. I knew I was in trouble when I glanced back to see him watching me from the door. He grinned when I turned and lifted a chubby hand in farewell.

Damn it.

“Clive,” I gritted out, already regretting the decision. I walked back to the confused man and looked him straight in the face. “This is going to sound ridiculous. But you have to listen to me.”

“You realize who you’re talking to? Ridiculous is my middle name,” Clive chuckled nervously.

“Seriously, your life depends on it,” I growled at him, causing him to serious-up. “But in a few months, I’m not exactly sure when, but at at shopping centre, sometime at night, the Doctor will be around and the mannequins will start walking. Don’t stop and stare at them. Just run.”

With that, I spun around on my heel and ran off, leaving a very confused and slightly frightened Clive in my wake.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

  
  


Once upon a time, I loved Christmas. 

It wasn’t the actual Christmas Day that I loved, it was the season. There was always a sense of magic and wonder that seeped through the crack of the unknown to manifest in the form of happy music and colorful lights. My family would always gather for the season at my grandmother’s house, cousins, family friends, and all. The best part was Christmas Eve, when we would go and see the lights that were put up at the park and meet up afterwards to have a family dinner of waffles drenched in an absurd amount of chocolate syrup and whipped cream, followed by an exchange of Christmas Eve presents while we watched Christmas movies.

This year, however, it sucked.

Obviously, I was alone this year, and it was horrible. Christmas, having previously been such a happy time for me, was inadvertently the worst period of this rather long, tumultuous year. A smart person with half decent coping methods and a sense of self worth might have gone out, made friends, and gone to parties in order to handle the crushing weight of dread and overcome the urge to fall into a pit of loneliness and despair.

I was not that person.

Instead of trying to make the season easier by doing what I knew I should be doing, I minimized the pain by going to extreme lengths to keep from experiencing anything that reminded me of Christmas at all.

Impossible, you say?

Yes.

That’s part of the reason why it was such a shitty coping mechanism. In essence, it involved me cutting off every form of human contact (excluding the take-out delivery guys) and not going outside at all.

That’s the other reason why it was such a shitty coping mechanism.

Should I have just gone out and faced my problems?

Yes.

Did I?

No.

Well, I went out once because the lady downstairs needed help finding her cat (it escaped out of her window while she was hanging a crude version of the Grinch on her windowsill) and was rewarded with a basket of cookies and a Christmas card, which was kind of nice.

Somehow I managed to crawl out of the Christmas season like a sleepy, half-dead troll without slitting my throat. But I still had to survive the _other_ dreaded time of the year.

January. Specifically, the eighteenth of January. The Anniversary of my arrival in this bizarre hell-hole. 

Twelve months in hell. I had _Supernatural_ ’s Dean Winchester beat. If Dean’s four months in hell equaled out as forty years, that’s ten years per month. So really, I had been here for 120 years.

Well, not actually. But it certainly felt like it.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

I was sitting at a coffee shop, and it was the eighteenth. After suffering the horrors of the Christmas season I had finally admitted to myself that I should at least be around people on the day that my mental health was forecasted to be the lowest, if at least to give me a reason not to spend the whole day sobbing my eyes out.

I hated crying in front of people. 

That’s how I ended up sitting in the window booth of my new favorite coffee shop. It was one of those weird ones where people would read poetry every couple of hours. But the coffee was good and the people were nice, so I’d started coming here a lot. 

I was sitting with my back against the window, my legs stretched out in the seat with my laptop in my lap. There were laptops in 2005, but mine was still from 2018, so I was pretending that it wasn’t a touch screen and hoping that no one noticed that it was thinner and more streamlined than everyone else’s. I mean, I could have just bought a new (old?) one, but I still hadn’t gotten a job, and I wasn’t actually sure where the money on the black credit card was coming from, so I didn’t want to use it on anything other than necessities. 

I was rewatching _Rose_ again, having nothing better to do, and fighting off a mental breakdown by speculating when the events of the episode would kick off. I had already worked through it a thousand times, but I was doing it again. 

Basically, I had noticed that the companions’ time tended to go in order. Rose started in 2005/2006, Martha was in 2007, Clara lived somewhere around 2012, and Bill worked at and went to the University in 2017. So, realistically, the episodes where the companions were at home could be used as markers, as in surefire dates that I could use as reference.

Or that’s what I hoped.

My main concern at the moment was that _Rose_ aired on March 17, 2006. I would OFFICIALLY lose whatever sanity I had left if I had to wait another year. But it was mentioned several times that she met the Doctor in 2005. When Ten regenerated and went back to see her, Rose told him that it was 2005, to which he responded that she would have ‘a really great year’. 

My hope was that the show had started with Rose living in 2005 so that when the Doctor accidentally dropped her off a year late, the episodes would be parallel with the audience’s ‘modern’ date, making the events of _Rose_ still in March of 2005.

God, I hoped I was right.

God, I hoped the Doctor was who I thought he was.

I sighed and took a sip of my coffee. 

I worried constantly about the day I would meet the Doctor. What would I say? Just run up to him and say _‘Hi, I’m from another universe where your life story is a television show?_ ’ There was no version of that explanation that didn’t sound simultaneously lame and batshit crazy.

Fear tightened my chest.

Would he even like me? Even though I was definitely more confident and self sufficient than I had been twelve months ago, I was still generally anxious and a quiet, dull person. What if I froze in a dangerous situation and somebody got hurt? What if he thought I was a burden? What if he didn’t believe me and just left me behind? What if he thought I was like Mickey? 

A frustrated whine bubbled in my throat. 

Mickey the idiot. Buffy the idiot. I didn’t want to be a Mickey. Sure, Mickey went through some character development and was a badass in the end, but that didn’t change all the times the Doctor found him lacking.

I bit my tongue and forced down another sip of coffee even though it tasted like ash in my mouth. 

First of all, there was no reason to think that the Doctor wouldn’t believe my story, and I knew way too much for him to just leave me behind. As for the rest, well…

I would just have to do my best.

No sense in worrying over something that hadn’t happened yet. Unfortunately for me, knowing that there was no sense in something wouldn’t stop me from doing it.

I was dragged out of my thoughts by movement at the end of the booth I was sitting at, accompanied by the cheeky, grinning face of a man that was all in all very, very familiar.

“Mind if I join you?” The man asked cheerfully and, without waiting for an answer, moved to take a seat. Instead of sitting at the other side of the booth like a normal person or even asking me to move my feet, he lifted my legs and sat down with them settled in his lap. “What’s the matter, Buff? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I stared at the man in shock. I had been caught so off guard by his sudden appearance that my brain literally refused to recognize his face, but the trademark WWII coat and flirty grin gave him away.

Jack’s smile didn’t falter as I gaped at him, trying to process his existence. “I know it’s early, Buff, but I always got the impression you already knew me. Any ringers? Or should I start dropping hints?”

“Yeah,” was the only word that I managed to choke out. 

Captain Jack Harkness, in the flesh, the real one and not John Barrowman playing a character, was sitting at the same booth as me, grinning with my feet in his lap. 

His smile broadened. “Good, I was starting to get worried. Though I take it this is our first meeting.” He extended a hand for me to shake. “Captain Jack Harkness.”

“Hi,” I returned the greeting falteringly as I took the proffered hand. Instead of shaking it, Jack gave it a fond, reassuring squeeze.

“2005. You haven’t even met the Doctor yet,” Jack began, still holding my hand. “You were pulled out of your universe, what, a year ago? Don’t worry, I know all about the TV show thing.” He released my hand and rested his on my knee. “Must’ve been scary. I had been planning on visiting sooner, but I had an issue in Madagascar that… well… Weevils. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Weevils,” I repeated, finally coming to my senses. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“Because you told me,” he scoffed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, not _here_ exactly, but you mentioned that you were lurking around Rose before you met the Doctor, and I knew you like coffee, so…”

“You’ve been hanging around coffee shops.”

“Exactly.” Jack scowled in mock annoyance. “Twenty different coffee shops over a ten mile radius. You really need to get out more.”

For the first time since my arrival in this version of reality, I smiled. An actual real smile and not one of the fake ones I had become accustomed to providing in order to prevent people from thinking I was more bitchy than I actually was. 

“Not much reason to get out,” I admitted sheepishly. “Though my apartment isn’t hard to find. I’m just a building over from Jackie and Rose.”

“Didn’t want to get caught poking around there,” Jack explained, shaking his head. “Rose doesn’t know anything about this yet. Didn’t want to risk contaminating the timeline.”

“Ah.” I recalled Jack saying something along those lines to the Tenth Doctor, about how he had considered visiting Rose during his time waiting for their timelines to match up again. “You came to see me, though.”

“You’re already so full of foreknowledge that there isn’t much more I can add,” he snorted. “Though I guess I have a few tricks up my sleeve. I know how _you_ affect the timeline, but I’d bet you still know a lot more about me that hasn’t happened yet.” He gave me a wary side glance. “And a lot of stuff that already has.”

“Does it follow the actual timeline?” I pressed, already knowing what he was about to ask and dreading the answer I would have to give him. “The TV show, I mean?”

“From what I’ve seen, yes.” Jack hesitated, drumming his fingers on my shin. “So how’s all the waiting going?”

I shrugged. “About as well as it can, I guess.”

“That bad, huh?”

I shrugged again, not really willing to open that can of worms, especially with someone I was still struggling to believe existed. 

“How much longer do you have?” Jack inquired conversationally, though his voice had softened a bit.

“Probably another two months.” The familiar anxious prickle tightened in my chest. “I hope, at least.”

“What’s more freaky, having to wait longer or knowing that you’re going to meet the Doctor?”

I let out a weary laugh. “What makes you think I’m freaked about meeting the Doctor?”

Jack grinned slyly. “I don’t know,” he drawled. “Maybe most people would be… let’s say… _uncomfortable_ … with meeting a fictional character.”

“Well, I’m handling meeting you pretty well,” I countered, feeling the corners of my mouth twitch up.

“Except that little part when your eyes popped out of your head,” he teased. “But that’s an appropriate reaction to little old me. This is the Doctor we’re talking about. Shouldn’t you be a little more… _excited_ … to be meeting him?”

I narrowed my eyes at Jack’s tone, which was seemingly innocent with a suggestive hint. 

“I mean, I guess? I’ve been waiting for him to show for a year now.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing.” Jack waved me away. His eyes darkened seriously again. “But honestly, how have you been?”

For some reason, the sudden change in mood caught me off guard and even loosened my emotional barrier a bit. 

I shrugged and tried to ignore the dampness that was starting to sting in my eyes. 

“Hey. Come on now, Buff.” Jack shifted my legs out of his lap and pulled me up into a sitting position for a hug. 

I leaned my head on his shoulder for a few moments, pulling myself back together and refusing to let the tears threatening to fall run their course. When I had regained control of my tear ducts, I straightened back up, though Jack didn’t take his arm from around me.

“Alright now?” He asked gently.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I insisted firmly, with more energy than I was actually feeling. “It’s just been a long year.”

Jack clapped my shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’ll get easier.” 

“In the future… am I… okay?” I asked hesitantly, not entirely sure what I meant.

Thankfully, Jack seemed to understand. A small smile settled on his features. It wasn’t a happy smile, but it wasn’t sad either; just an expression that showed that the immortal man was much older than he looked.

“You’re okay,” Jack began softly. “To hell with that, you’re downright _incredible_. No one could do the things you do, Buff, the Doctor and I included.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” he hesitated, mulling over his choice of words before carefully continuing. “You’ve been dealt a rough hand. I won’t lie to you, it’s not going to be easy, knowing the things you know. Foreknowledge is dangerous, and it’s gonna be up to you to decide what you do with it. And we try to help you, we really do.” His eyes flickered with guilt. “But really we just end up making it harder.”

I studied him carefully, trying to read between the lines. He rubbed my shoulder soothingly as he spoke. It felt oddly like an apology, though I couldn’t imagine what for.

“But just remember that we’re always on your side. Got? No matter what we do or say, we’ve got your back.”

I wasn’t really sure how to respond, so I settled on nodding. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I assured.

Jack nodded, though it was clear there was a lot more that he wanted to say, but couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. 

I opened my mouth to say something else, but Jack's vortex manipulator, which was brown and bulky on his wrist. 

“Oh, that’s me,” Jack said, flipping the leather cover up and pressing a few buttons. “Time’s up.”

Disappointment settled in my gut. “You’re going?” 

“Yeah. Duty calls.” He flipped the cover back over the buttons and eased his way to his feet. “You’ll see me again though. London, middle of the Blitz, wasn’t it?”

“I’m not going to see you again until then?”

“Unfortunately not, sweetheart. Me coming to see you once was just a guilty indulgence.” He took a few steps toward the coffee shop’s door, but paused to look back. “Any chance as to when I’ll be seeing you again?”

When did Martha start traveling with the Doctor? “2007, I think,” I offered hesitantly. “Though that’s if I understand the timing right.”

Jack threw me a salute and turned to walk away, but paused again. “And I mean it, Buffy,” he said in all seriousness. “It’ll be okay. It’ll get easier. You’ll be okay.”

Then he walked out the door and was gone.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

It was March, and I was freaking out. All the reassurance Jack had given me had worn off, leaving me as lonely and anxious as I had been before.

I’d eventually worked up the courage to meet Rose, not that we were close, though. I had been to her flat a couple of times. Met Jackie, who kept trying to set me up with the son of one of her friends. I met Mickey too, who was every bit as dorky as he had been in the show. 

But we still didn’t talk much. We were friends, but only slightly more than acquaintances.

That’s probably why I wasn’t on her list of informants when the apartment store she worked at blew up.

For the past month, I had kept my television on the news channel 24/7, determined not to miss my cue. My heart almost stopped when I heard the reporter informing all of London of the explosion. I couldn’t believe my ears. 

The first thing I did was text Rose to make sure she was okay. She was, meaning that tomorrow was the day the Doctor would show up at her flat and be attacked by a plastic arm.

My heart pounded and all I could hear was the blood roaring in my ears.

The fourteen months were up.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	3. Larger Than Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Strong Language and Mild Violence (sort of)

_**.**_

_**~0~0~0~  
** _

_**Chapter Three: Larger Than Life** _

_**~0~0~0~  
.** _

I am a stalker.

A stalker stalking an alien.

A stalker stalking an alien because I’m a chickenshitted coward.

  
  


**_~0~0~0~_ **

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**_~0~0~0~_ **

  
  


I’d barely slept a wink the night before, having been too jittery to sleep. I whittled away the long hours by alternating between dozing on my couch and making anxious laps around the apartment until dawn, at which point I stayed outside, bigger on the inside bag packed, leaning on the railing nine floors up. Watching the ground below. Waiting.

And there he was, a dark figure stalking across the space between the buildings, sonic screwdriver in hand.

I almost had a heart attack.

Instead of dying of heart failure, which would have been preferable, I watched the alien vanish into the stairwell of Rose’s building. I yearned to race after him.

What seemed like seconds later, he was back, followed closely by Rose.

I watched their conversation from a long ways off, not needing to hear their voices to know what they were saying.

Then he walked away from Rose. He slipped into the TARDIS, and was gone.

He was gone.

He was GONE.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

I had been so paralyzed by the events I’d been waiting FOURTEEN MONTHS to take place that I had missed my first opportunity. 

Shit.

Where would he go next?

Shit.

The pizza place.

Shit.

With Rose and fake Mickey.

Shit.

But was that still today?

Shit.

Rose would visit Clive before then. So when would that be?

Shit.

Assuming it was today, as it wouldn’t have taken the Doctor _that_ long to find a giant vat of sentient plastic, I would have to get to the pizza place that they were at.

Thankfully, I had figured out which one it would be ages ago.

Time to go there and wait.

Fuck.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

So that’s how I ended up stalking the Doctor.

I had spent the day wandering around the area surrounding the pizza shop when I saw him again, pacing through the streets methodically as he followed whatever signal he was getting on his sonic screwdriver.

He first appeared from around a guy dressed as a giant cup of coffee, beside which I had been purchasing a latte and a cream cheese bagel. 

The Doctor had loomed around the coffee guy and strode through the surrounding people like they weren’t there, a dark shape with angular features and piercing blue eyes that scoured everything in his path. 

Naturally, I froze. The words caught in my throat and my heart stopped, allowing him to brush by with scarcely a glance.

I stared at his rapidly retreating back stupidly for a moment before realizing what I had just seen and, bagel forgotten, hurried off after him.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

**_._ **

**_._ **

**_~0~0~0~_ **

As per freaking usual, I couldn’t just run up to him and introduce myself.

No. That would’ve been too simple. Instead, I had been following him for the last twenty minutes, trying to work up the courage to actually get his attention.

Following the Doctor wasn’t easy, he walked fast and seemed to glide through the crowd while I was short and too small for people to see a reason to get out of my way. 

Every once in a while, he would pause and seem to linger around a shop entrance or newspaper stand, therefore providing the perfect opportunity for me to catch up. Instead of taking the opportunity, like a smart person would, I would duck behind a sign or a group of people, feigning disinterest in the Time Lord.

Then, as soon as he was moving again, I would resume my pursuit. 

I watched the Doctor pause at the gap between two buildings and duck into the corresponding alleyway.

I stomped after him, getting increasingly frustrated with my own cowardice. I had to talk to him _now,_ before he met up with Rose again. If I didn’t, I might end up explaining my dilemma to both him _and_ Rose at the same time, which would make the situation even more difficult than it already was.

It had to be _NOW._ Rose would just be being introduced to the world of aliens and time travel, and didn’t need another universe were she was on a tv show thrown in the mix. The poor girl didn’t need to know that her weird, quiet neighbor was actually a chickenshitted, motherfuc-

I rounded the corner and almost ran smack into the Doctor, being so caught up in my self degrading pep talk to check around the corner before charging in head first.

Now, the Time Lord loomed over me, staring into my goddamn soul with his arms crossed expectantly, very plainly having been waiting for me to follow him into the alleyway.

“Hello,” the Doctor greeted with false cheer.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly while I gazed up at him in a mixture of fascination and terror.

God, he was tall.

I was shorter in this body than I had been in my old one, but he still would’ve dwarfed me in the other universe. In this body, the top of my head just barely came to his shoulder, making him easily a head and neck taller than me.

Tall and broad shouldered, he towered over me like a giant, the height difference between us made even more stark by the fact that I was subconsciously trying to make myself as small as possible.

He studied my cowering form curiously for a moment before speaking again.

“You’ve been following me,” he stated calmly. His voice was stern, but not unfriendly. A very clear warning that the amount of nonsense he was taking today was extremely limited.

“Yes,” I answered, my voice finally coming out as a somewhat embarrassing squeak.

“What for?” He furrowed his brow questioningly. “You’re not made of plastic, are you?” He reached out and tapped my forehead experimentally.

“Not to my knowledge,” I managed to reply, clearing my throat to eliminate the squeak, though it did nothing for the unintentional vibrato. 

The Doctor stopped poking my forehead and returned his arms to their place crossed over his chest. “What’s your name?”

“Ca-,” I started, but cut myself off. I had almost given him my old name. But I wasn’t her anymore. “Buffy,” I corrected firmly.

“Buffy what?”

“Reid.”

“Nice to meet you, Buffy Reid.” The Doctor offered a disarming smile. “Funny name, though, isn’t it?”

I managed a weak smile in return. “Thanks. But that’s rich coming from you, _Doctor_.”

The smile vanished. “So you do know me then,” the alien concluded, his intensity of his gaze changing from stern to borderline threatening. “How?”

Crap. Not off to a good start. Should’ve eased into it more. Too late now. 

I ran my fingers through my hair nervously. “It’s complicated. It… it really is. It’s really weird. Really really weird. Even for you.”

“Try me.” The Doctor raised his chin challengingly. “Though I take it you’re not from this world, right?”

“No. Well… yes. Sort of.” I twisted the ends of my hair around my fingers. “Earth… but…” I gave up trying to stammer an explanation and let my hands fall to my sides in defeat. “Wrong universe.”

“Ah,” the Doctor relaxed slightly, becoming more curious than threatening, now that I was just a lost human and not a hostile alien invader. “How long have you been here?”

I relaxed slightly as well. “About a year.”

“What made you think you’re in a different universe?” His voice was becoming softer, more sympathetic.

“Number of things.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “I woke up four thousand miles away from where I was. In the wrong year…”

“How far off?” The Doctor asked gently.

I chanced a glance up into his face. “2018.”

He raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “That is a bit of a leap. So you spent one minute in 2018, and the next…”

“I woke up off the side of the road in 2004,” I completed. A wave of despair washed over me. Hearing my predicament out loud reminded me just how hopeless it was. I was never going home. I choked down the lump in my throat.

“Through that still doesn’t explain how you know about me,” the Doctor protested, eyebrows still furrowed in thought.

“That’s the _really_ weird part I told you about,” I sighed, my despair being replaced by dread. “And why I knew it was a different universe entirely and not just some weird time travel thing.”

“Go on.”

“There’s no way to make this sound sane…” I fumbled around for the right words and tugged at my ear agitatedly. “But you’re in my universe… just not… real.”

“How can I be in your universe and not real?” The Doctor challenged, confusion written all over his face.

Just come out and say it, damn it. You’re making it worse.

Before I could explain further, the Doctor worked out what I was trying to say. 

His eyes widened in surprise. “Wait. Are you saying I’m… _fictional_ … in your universe?”

I grimaced. “Yeah…”

“No. That can’t be right,” he insisted and started to pace. “I’m not some bloody book character.” 

“Not a book,” I corrected wearily, fully aware that I was not making the situation easier. “A tv show.”

“A _tv show?_ ” He echoed, still pacing. 

It was weirdly comforting to talk to someone that was almost as freaked out about the situation as I was, it sparked a little confidence that hadn’t been there before. Or at least a little spark of ‘fuck it’, which had the same effect.

“No… no…” the Doctor protested, clearly trying to find a reason that he couldn’t possibly be a character in another universe. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” The Doctor stopped pacing and turned to face me. “Prove it.”

“Okay,” I answered openly. “What do you want?”

“What’s it called, this show?”

“ _Doctor Who.”_

“ _Doctor Who?_ ” He echoed, looking slightly affronted. “Why _Doctor Who?"_

“It comes from the question everyone always asks you.”

“What question?”

“You know, the question people always ask when they meet you.” I threw on a couple different voices to mock different people. “‘Hello, I’m the Doctor.’ ‘Doctor who?’ See? Clever title.”

“I don’t know about ‘clever’,” he huffed, crossing his arms in front of his chest again. “Why would anyone want to watch a show about me anyway?”

“A show about a time travelling alien? Made in the era when everyone’s into scifi? It’s a pretty big franchise.”

“Which era? People are always into science fiction.”

I snorted. “All of them, it seems like. _Doctor Who_ started up even before _Star Trek._ ”

“And you watched it in 2018?” He squinted skeptically. “I don’t know about your universe, but _Star Trek_ started in the late 1960’s here.”

“1966?” I clarified. “ _Doctor Who_ began in… I want to say… 1963? That’s right, because the 50th anniversary was in 2013.”

“The show’s been running for fifty years?” He spat in bewilderment.

“More than that now. It was still going when I left. I think it has the title for longest running sci fi show in history.”

“This is ridiculous,” the Doctor growled, taking up pacing again.

“You’re telling me,” I confirmed dryly. 

“So,” he began, “this show is just about me travelling around the universe? It just follows me?”

I nodded.

“From when? At what point in my timeline?”

I scratched my head thoughtfully. “I’m not very well versed in the early episodes… but I want to say when Ian and Barbara first get on the TARDIS.”

NOW the Doctor was pissed. Or I say pissed, but really it was a mixture of horror, anger, and confusion. I couldn’t say I blamed him, either.

“Since THEN? That was CENTURIES AGO!” He snapped. “Are you telling me that there is an entire UNIVERSE out there that knows my every move since the _beginning?_ ”

“Not every move,” I pathetically tried to soothe. “Hundreds of years compressed into fifty. It was a tv show… most of it was left out. More like a Wikipedia synopsis than _The Truman Show._ ”

“You’re not helping.”

“Sorry.”

“Fine.” The Doctor stopped in front of me so that he was looming only a few inches away from my face. “What does TARDIS stand for?”

“Time and relative dimension in space.”

“What does it look like?”

“A blue police telephone box from the 1950s that’s bigger on the inside.”

“Where am I from?”

“Gallifrey.” I answered his barrage of questions easily. Maybe a little too easily. For me, it had started to feel more like a random quiz at Dragon Con than facts about a real person’s life. So what happened next was at least partially my fault. “In the constellation Kasterborous. You’re a Time Lord. The Last of The Time Lords… because of the Time War, with the Daleks - "

The Doctor lunged.

The next thing I was aware of was the back of my head clacking against the wall behind me, hard enough for my vision to blur. I let out a squeak of surprise and fear as he pinned me to the bricks by trapping my right wrist over my head in an iron grip while his other hand locked roughly around my throat.

His face was a terrifying mask of pain and rage. It was a look I had _NEVER_ seen on his face before, not even when he went all ‘oncoming storm’. The closest I could compare it to was the face he had made when confronting the Dalek in the episode _Dalek._

“Did you watch the Time War?” He snarled an inch from my face, poisonous disdain dripping off his words. “Did your people watch mine burn and die from the comfort of their homes?” 

“What? No!” I choked, horrified. “The war was left out!” 

He wasn’t listening. “Stupid, bloody apes!” A bit of spittle flew off his lip and landed on my forehead. “You’re all the same. Packaging and dramatizing violence for consumption and calling it entertainment. The only lives that matter are the ones directly related to you. Everyone else can die and scream and burn and you won’t even blink!”

I squirmed weakly in his grip. He was using most of his body weight to keep my wrist pinned to the wall, causing the pressure put on my wrist be bruising, at minimum. His grip around my throat was tightening as he spoke, making my breath wheeze desperately in the slowly compressing windpipe.

“Doctor,” I gasped, “you’re hurting me!”

The change in his face was instant. I watched as all the rage melt away to be replaced by shock and horror before he leapt away from me like I was made of hot coals.

“Buffy…” I heard the Doctor choke out.

I stayed slumped against the wall, coughing and rubbing at my wrist.

“I… I’m sorry.” I was staring at the ground, but his voice was laden and quaking.

“It’s okay,” I answered weakly, trembling and close to tears.

The Doctor’s boots stepped into my line of vision, framed by the red hair that was hanging in my face. His hands came up to hover around my elbows and then my shoulders, followed by my head as he tried desperately to figure out how to make it better, but then they dropped back to his side helplessly as he thought better of it and backed away once more. 

“I really am,” he tried again, his voice now more pained than ever. 

“I know.” I stopped rubbing my aching wrist to graze my good hand up my throat and then around to caress the knot that was already forming where the back of my head had come into contact with the wall.

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” I croaked as I wiped away the tears that were threatening to spill and finally chanced a look up at him.

He was close to tears as well, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket as he gazed at me sadly, his face creased with self-disgust and shame.

“I… just…” the Doctor stammered. “Sorry.” He met my eyes, hoping that I would see that he meant it.

I did. I knew he was sorry, and I already wasn’t holding it against him, not really, at least. If he had just regenerated, as it had been suggested by his response to seeing himself in the mirror at the Tyler’s, the war had just ended. There were bound to be a few… let’s say… aftershocks. 

Despite consciously knowing this, I was back to the skittish, cowering girl that I had been when I first ran into him, the smidge of confidence I had gained having been quite thoroughly knocked out of me.

“So you believe me, then?” I asked shakily, trying to shrug off the fresh anxiety that was building in my chest.

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“About the other universe.” I straightened up but kept rubbing at my wrist. It still really hurt. The wrist was definitely going to bruise, though I hoped my neck wouldn’t, as it would be harder to hide.

“Yeah.”

“The show started in the sixties and ran into sometime in the eighties or nineties,” I started to explain. “Then it went off air until 2006, with the events of today. That’s how I found you.” 

I rotated my wrist in its socket. He must’ve been putting a lot of weight on the joint itself, which would’ve bruised some of the ligaments, which would go on to explain why it hurt even worse to move it. “The war happened in the gap. Everything I know about the war comes from stuff you’ve said… or will say. Sorry I brought it up.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” The Doctor rubbed his eyes wearily. “It’s not exactly your fault, is it?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and brought his hand back down into his pocket. “Though if the reboot series starts today and runs at least until 2018, that means you’ve got a head full of foreknowledge. Meaning we need to set some ground rules.”

This was not a surprise. “Okay.”

The Doctor nodded. “We can work out the details later, but for now, keep your mouth shut. No hints or slip-ups. You got that?”

“Not exactly rocket science,” I responded coolly, trying to pretend some of my dry humor was returning. “No spoilers.”

“First off, do you have any idea how you got into this universe? Strange sounds? New people? Lights in the sky?”

“Not really.” I was too drained by the emotional roller coaster that today had been and my aching head to continue caring how weird my statements were. “Only what the Mirror Girl told me.”

Whatever the Doctor had been expecting, that was not it. 

His eyebrows shot up. “Mirror Girl?”

“Yeah. Mirror Girl.” I hesitated thoughtfully, turning over what the girl in the mirror had left behind in my mind and considering the new urge that came with it. “I think…” I shrugged off my seemingly-empty book bag and started fumbling with the zipper. “I think she wanted me to give you this.”

Opening the book bag was more irritating than it should have been, as my dominant hand was the one I was favoring. But after a few seconds my fingers came into contact with the smooth metal of the medallion, which was always cold no matter how long I held it in my hands. 

I held it out to the Doctor and he took it from me hesitantly. I watched him turn it over in his hands and run his thumb over the designs and red jewel in the center, as I had done many times.

After a moment he looked up, plainly confused and troubled.

“Do you have any idea what this is?” He asked softly.

“Nope,” I responded, clicking my tongue. 

The Doctor groaned and scrubbed at his face with his hands. It went on like this for a solid thirty seconds, me standing awkwardly while he seemed to be trying to figure out how exactly his relatively normal day of tracking down an alien made of sentient plastic had suddenly gotten so complicated.

Then he sighed.

“You know what, Buffy Reid?” The Doctor stopped rubbing his face and tucked the medallion into one of his interior jacket pockets. “You are a problem for later.”

“Thanks,” I replied sarcastically.

He ignored the comment. “I’ve got more pressing matters on my hands. I assume you know what I’m looking for? Or rather, who?”

I nodded. “The Nestene Consciousness.”

“Fantastic.” The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and took up my uninjured hand. “Then you can show me where I can find it.”

“I thought you said ‘no spoilers’?” I protested as he started hauling me back into the main street, presumably to wherever he had left the TARDIS.

“I’m making the rules, so I get to decide when to break them,” he retorted. “So where?”

“But we can’t go there yet!”

“Why not?”

“First you have to save Rose from her plastic boyfriend.”

“Figures.”

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	4. Follow the Script!

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~  
** _

_**Chapter Four: Follow the Script!** _

_**~0~0~0~  
.** _

The Doctor didn’t let go of my hand until we rounded the corner of an over priced shoe department store with lacy red curtains. Off the side of the store was another alley, much like the one we had just been in. Sitting just inside the mouth of the entrance, encased in shadows, was the TARDIS.

The Doctor released my hand so he could rummage through his leather jacket for the key while I stared up at the box in wonder. 

I used to have a small plastic TARDIS on the dresser in my dorm. It had been the size of a large coffee mug, short and squat with slightly improper proportions. And I had thought it was cool. A couple of years ago, I went to Dragon Con in Atlanta. There I got to see a life size model of the TARDIS. That had been amazing.

If I had been so enthusiastic about a couple of fake TARDISes, imagine how thrilled I was to see the real ACTUAL TARDIS. I hadn’t even seen the inside yet.

I was distracted from my fangirling thoughts by a flash of silver. The Doctor had located the key and was unlocking the door. I then realized that I hadn’t even fangirled about him yet. Though I suppose I had been too busy trying not to piss myself in terror to really appreciate the fact that I had JUST MET THE FREAKING DOCTOR. But there would probably be time for that later. 

The door creaked open and the Doctor slipped inside, leaving the door ajar for me to follow. 

My fingers grazed the blue wood of the door lightly as I stepped inside. It was rough and slightly warm to the touch. I took a deep breath and pushed the rest of the way in.

The breath I had just taken came out in a single, awed rush. The console room was HUGE. Like taking a picture of a sunset, the console room on the show did NOT do the real thing any kind of justice. The ceiling arched impossibly high above my head, accented regularly by the coral supports that stretched and curled all the way up to the top to form a rough circle around where the top of the console met the ceiling, from what point wires and cords draped down haphazardly like vines and snakes from the top of a tree. 

The TARDIS didn’t need to be in flight for it to seem alive. Everything, the walls, the air, and even the grating beneath my feet seemed to hum, buzz, and pulse with life. 

“Oi! Close the door,” the Doctor ordered from his place at the console, where he already had a hand resting on a lever, ready to go.

I turned back towards the exit to do as he said, pausing a only a heartbeat to survey the outside world one last time before turning back to the one within.

“So I take it you’ve seen the inside of the TARDIS before?” The Doctor asked as I ambled back over to him distractedly, senses still working on overdrive to take it all in.

“Yeah. On a screen,” I responded airily.

The Doctor chuckled, drawing my attention back over to him. For the first time since we met, he smiled at me. An actual smile, too. For the first time in over a year, excitement bubbled in my chest. The good kind that gave me a little thrill and had me grinning back at him unabashedly.

“Alright. You said we’re looking for Rose Tyler. Do you know her? In person, I mean. Not just from the...”

“Yeah. We’re practically neighbors.” I braced myself on the console, sort of knowing how bumpy a ride on the TARDIS could be. “Or, you know, literally neighbors. She’s how I found you, because I knew you’d show up around her eventually.”

“Important, is she?” The Doctor inquired curiously.

“You could say that,” was my vague reply.

The Doctor nodded. “Long as we’re picking up a passenger, we best keep the tv show thing between us. So don’t give out any, what did you call ‘em… spoilers? And don’t interfere unless I say it’s alright. Understand?”

I nodded seriously.

“Good,” the Doctor went on. “I was following a signal when you bumped into me. That should take us right where we want to go.” He looked up from the control panel. “Hold on!”

He yanked down on a lever and the entire room roared into motion. I was very nearly flung into the floor despite my tight hold on the console. It wasn’t anything like I had seen on TV. The whole place tossed and heaved like a tiny tugboat on stormy seas. The sound wasn’t anything like it either. Sure, there was the machine’s trademark grinding and heaving sound, but there was so much more than that, and it was so much louder. Whirls and mechanical howls mixed into one huge cacophony that almost made me relinquish my grip on the console just so I could cover my ears.

Then with a loud, sudden _thump_ , it all stopped, leaving the only remaining sounds to be mine and the Doctor’s labored breathing in the still air.

Before I could even fully process that it had stopped, the Doctor was on the move again. 

“You stay here,” he instructed as he bounded over to the door. “Be back in a mo’.” He leapt out the door but then stuck his head back in to glare at me threateningly. “And don’t touch anything!”

I raised my hands in a surrender gesture and he ducked back outside, closing the door with a snap. I heard the lock click distinctly behind him.

Not entirely sure what to do with myself, I stood awkwardly for a few seconds. I really wanted to explore, but I was already off to a bad start with the Time Lord. Not to mention that I was literally a guest in his house. No point in risking making it any worse.

I padded over to the jump seat, took off my bag, and sat down with my legs crossed, staring up at the ceiling with genuine interest while I waited for him to return with Rose and fake Mickey’s plastic head. 

I rubbed my eyes tiredly. It had been a long day. Functioning off of maybe two hours of seep, I had run myself ragged all over London, nearly been throttled, and been inside the TARDIS, all in one day. And it still was a long way from over.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

True to his word, he wasn’t gone long. Less than five minutes after he went outside, I heard the lock jiggle and the sound of muffled voices. Then he was striding back in, plastic head in hands.

“Go and get your friend,” he called over his shoulder as he started wiring the head into the console.

I hopped up obediently and bounced over to the doors and poked my head out around the frame.

Just like in the episode, Rose was frantically pulling at the chains on the tall metal fence.

“He’s gonna get us!” She cried plaintively.

“Rose!” 

Rose spun around in surprise. “Buffy? What’re you doing here?”

“No time to explain. Get in!” I instructed as dramatically as I could before pulling my head out of the door and back into the TARDIS.

Rose skidded in behind me and urgently closed the door before spinning around and realizing her surroundings.

I smirked at her face like I hadn’t been doing the exact same thing five minutes before and returned to my place on the jump seat to watch the scene play out.

As expected, the blonde girl ran back outside. 

The Doctor shot me a questioning glance and I shrugged nonchalantly in response.

When she finished running circles, as I knew she had, she was back. “It’s gonna follow us!” 

“The assembled hordes of Genghis Khan couldn’t get through that door, and believe me, they’ve tried.” It was an impressive statement, I would have to remember to ask him for the story behind it. “Now shut up a minute.”

While the Doctor finished doing whatever he was doing, Rose inched her way over to me as she stared all around. Once at my side, she bumped me absently with her hand, as if trying to alert me to how strange the room was.

I nudged her with my elbow playfully. “I know.”

“You see, the arm was too simple, but the head’s perfect. I can use it to trace the signal back to the original source.” The Doctor shot me a glance before turning to address Rose. “Right, where do you want to start?”

The conversation started off exactly as it should, but after the Doctor asked “Is that alright?” Rose’s next question was directed at me.

“But how did you get here?” She asked, taking me by surprise.

Taking note of the Doctor’s warning look, I shrugged. “Long story.”

“It’s called the TARDIS, this thing. T-A-R-D-I-S, that’s time and relative dimension in space.”

Rose started sobbing, as the script instructed, and the Doctor misinterpreted it.

A part of me wanted to comfort Rose, to tell her that I was sure he was fine or at least prompt the Doctor into explaining that Mickey probably wasn’t dead, but I didn’t want to overstay my welcome. Today, at least, I was here to observe and make notes. So when the Doctor shot me a questioning glance during Rose’s tirade, I kept my face carefully blank.

“And now you’re just gonna let him melt!”

“Melt?”

After the Doctor did his bit trying to follow the signal, I trailed after him out to see the London Eye while Rose protested behind me.

I wandered over to the railing that separated the walkway from the water and gazed out at the scene in front of me. It was a pleasantly cool night, the breeze ruffling the water and distorting the reflection of the London Eye. I probably should’ve explored London more during my time here.

A large hand gripped my upper arm. I turned to see the Doctor looming over me with a look that was part question and part warning.

“We’re _fine,_ ” I hissed softly.

He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Rose barging out of the TARDIS.

He swallowed and released his hold. “I lost the signal. I got so close,” he announced more to her than to me.

“We’ve moved,” Rose gasped, coming over to stand by me. “Does it fly?”

“It disappears there and reappears here. You wouldn’t understand.”

The Doctor kept shooting me looks throughout the conversation that ensued, plainly contemplating forcing me to tell him where the signal had been taking us. At least until Rose remembered Mickey, because then he was more preoccupied by her anger than by my existence.

“Look, if I did forget about some kid called Mickey…” the Doctor growled, becoming agitated.

“He’s not a kid!”

“... it’s because I’m trying to save the life of every _stupid_ ape blundering about on this planet, all right?” The Doctor snarled venomously, sending a chill up my spine.

After our earlier encounter in the alleyway, the way he said that line made me uneasy. Before today, the line hadn’t meant much. But now the way he spat out ‘stupid ape’ brought up a very vivid image of his face hovering an inch from mine, full of unbridled rage and a deep, broken agony. 

I shuddered and subconsciously rubbed my wrist. The Doctor was not as stable as he was making out to be.

“All right?” Rose shouted back, as unaware as the audience that would watch this scene in another universe.

“Yes, it is!” The Doctor crossed his arms defensively and turned away from the blonde. 

“If you’re an alien, how come you sound like you’re from the north?”

“Lots of planets have a north!”

And just like that, the spell was broken.

“Are you an alien too?” Once again, Rose’s questioning caught me off guard. I had watched this episode so many times that I was forgetting that I was even here, screwing with events and changing dialogue.

“Uhh… no. I’m human.” Though really I’m even more alien than he is.

Thankfully Rose didn’t notice the uncertainty in my tone and moved on. “What’s a police public call box?” She stammered.

Suddenly the Doctor was smiling amicably again, always happy to explain the TARDIS. He went through mood swings pretty quickly.

They allowed me to sit quietly throughout the rest of the conversation, though I did exchange a grin with Rose when it took the Doctor so long to realise that the London Eye was an extremely obvious transmitter hiding in plain sight.

“Fantastic!” 

Then we were running again. Something else you don’t fully realize on tv: the Doctor is FAST. His long legs just seemed to eat up the ground effortlessly, leaving Rose and I panting in his wake. 

Somewhere halfway across the bridge he snatched up my hand, the right one, much to my discomfort. The wrist was still troubling me, so being yanked around while running wasn’t exactly pleasant. I hadn’t checked it in a while, but I was fairly certain that my jacket sleeve was hiding the beginnings of a deep, nasty bruise.

I was more concerned about the change in events than the bruise, though. He was supposed to grab Rose’s hand, not mine. It probably didn’t matter, but it didn’t stop me from worrying. What if I accidentally messed up his relationship with Rose and she didn’t want to travel with him? 

I mentally scolded myself. That would definitely take more than hand holding while running. The attitude was different anyway. When he held Rose’s hand, it had been fond, out of companionship more than anything. I was fairly certain he was holding mine just because he was concerned about losing sight of me in case I screwed something up. 

He didn’t smile at me when he took my hand, that was for sure. Nope, just the same warning glance for me. For some reason, that stung more than the wrist.

The Doctor released my hand as we bounded down the stairs and skidded to a stop in front of the London Eye.

“Think of it, plastic all over the world,” the Time Lord addressed Rose, not even winded while I panted at his side. “Every artificial thing waiting to be alive. The shop window dummies, the phones, the wires, the cables.”

“The breast implants.”

“Still, we’ve found the transmitter,” the Doctor continued. “The Consciousness must be somewhere underneath.”

Rose automatically began scouring the area while the Doctor and I stayed where we were.

“You might wanna stay up here,” the Doctor muttered so that Rose, who was leaning over the railing a short distance away, couldn’t hear.

“No, I wanna see,” I insisted softly, despite my pounding heart. 

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he growled.

“What about down here?” Rose called over from the railing.

“I’ll stay out of the way,” I reassured as we hurried over to where Rose was. It shouldn’t be hard. I’ll just hide in the corner with Mickey.

I sighed. One step closer to ‘Buffy the Idiot.’

Less than a minute later I was climbing down into a manhole-service duct thing behind the Doctor and Rose. The Doctor paused at the bottom of the metal ladder to make sure Rose and I got down safely before creeping further into the steam filled room awash in creepy red light.

On the other side of the heavy metal door was the massive room. I couldn’t see the bottom of the room though, where I knew the Consciousness would be, partially because of my lack in height and partially because the Doctor and Rose were still in the way. 

“The Nestene Consciousness.”

I peered around the Doctor’s shoulder quizzically, but could only see the light that the alien was giving off from the bottom of the pit.

“That’s it, inside the vat, a living plastic creature.”

I stepped forward a bit, just enough so that I could see the lower section of the room while remaining firmly behind the the Time Lord. For what must’ve been the eightieth time today, my heart stopped and I was left breathless as all of my wits left me.

The Doctor was talking, but I wasn’t listening.

Sunsets, TARDISes, living plastic creatures; no picture, video, or 2005 attempt at CGI could ever hope to come close to the real thing.

Such was the case with the Nestene Consciousness. When I had seen it before, it had been every bit as realistic as CGI living alien plastic could be in 2005. Now, it obviously looked… well… real. 

The closest I could liken it to was lava. It oozed and bubbled, red hot and moaning under a cracked, drying crust.

I was dimly aware of my Time Lord shield moving away from me, leaving me exposed as the Doctor and Rose edged down the stairs. Terrified of being left alone, I hurried after them despite every instinct I had screaming at me to stay exactly where I was.

Why was I going closer to the scary pit of plastic lava? Oh, right. The Doctor wanted to talk to it.

“I seek audience with the Nestene Consciousness under peaceful contract,” the Doctor announced, his voice projecting impressively in the cavernous room despite the lava monster’s constant groaning, “according to Convention 15 of the Shadow Proclamation.”

I wonder if I could get him to go through and explain all the Shadow Proclamation laws and stuff to me. It had to be more interesting than learning all of those in the U.S. Constitution, which I still hadn’t memorized despite of all the Government and History classes I’d taken.

The blob shifted around in the vat, the dry crusty bits on the top shifting and audibly cracking to allow the bright gold runny liquid underneath to bubble disgustingly as the mass bunched up in the middle, stretching out like a single massive finger reaching up and out to snatch us off the stairs and into its molten depths. 

Even though I logically knew that we were up far too high for the creature to reach, I had to grip the rusted stair railing so tightly that my knuckles turned white to keep myself from running as a gooey rendition of a mouth morphed into a gaping chasm and let out an ear splitting scream in response to the Doctor’s comments.

Despite my gut instinct, whatever it said must’ve been positive.

“Thank you. If I might have permission to approach?”

Why the fuck were we going closer?

“Oh, my God,” I heard Rose breathe. She split from her spot at the other side of the Doctor and dashed down the stairs.

The Doctor sighed and followed her more slowly, leaving me to scramble in his wake, the idea of being left alone even more terrifying than being closer to the alien in the vat.

“Doctor, they kept him alive!” Rose gasped from where she was crouched beside a very disheveled Mickey. 

“Yeah, that was always a possibility, keep him alive to maintain the copy,” the Doctor huffed as he stomped down the last few stairs and around to the next flight.

I opted to crouch by Rose and Mickey instead of following after the Time Lord, trying to convince myself that it was the best course of action because I didn’t want to interfere and not because I had absolutely no desire to go any closer.

“You knew that and you never said?” 

Rose was handling this a hell of a lot better than I was, though that’s probably why the Doctor wanted to travel with her. I was just along for the ride because of my circumstance.

“Can we keep the domestics outside, thank you?”

Rose, still much braver than me, worked her way into a standing position to watch the scene play out below while Mickey and I, the idiots, stayed on the floor to watch through the metal rails.

I was barely aware of what the Doctor was saying, so it helped that I had all the dialogue memorized. Unfortunately, I was too distracted by the living vat of plastic to really remember it all. I sat transfixed, gazing at the bizarre alien encounter.

At least until the mannequins came out. 

“Doctor!” Rose cried out in warning. 

A flash of white hot fear coursed through me as the mannequins gripped the Doctors arm. I watched in horror as the Time Lord struggled helplessly against the plastic people. 

The Consciousness screeched in rage as one of the mannequins removed the vial of anti-plastic from the Doctor’s jacket pocket.

“That was just insurance! I wasn’t gonna use it!” The Time Lord cried desperately. 

The plastic lava let out a growl that made the air tremble.

“I was not attacking you. I’m here to help.” The pitch of the Doctor’s voice had changed, his fear and desperation bleeding through in a way that it hadn’t on the show. “I’m not your enemy, I swear I’m not.”

The alien mass roared.

“What do you mean?”

A metal elevator thing to my left slid open. I couldn’t see the TARDIS from my place on the other side of Rose and Mickey, but I knew it was there.

“No, no, no! Honestly, no. Yes, that’s my ship.”

The plastic screamed again.

“That’s not true!” The Doctor’s tone changed again, becoming more distraught by the second. “I should know, I was there. I fought in the war. It wasn’t my fault.” Even in my own petrified state, I could tell that he didn’t believe it. “I couldn’t save your world. I couldn’t save any of them!”

The plastic consciousness writhed in its vat, causing some of the runny liquid underneath to splosh out of the cauldron and pool on the surrounding metal floor.

“What’s it doing?” Rose called, fear finally steeping through in her voice.

“It’s the TARDIS,” the Doctor called back, redoubling his efforts to break free. “The Nestene’s identified it as superior technology. It’s terrified! It’s starting the invasion. Get out Rose! Just leg it, now!”

Mickey used me to help him stand up, though he didn’t dare rise above the top of the railing. While Rose was calling her mother, the Doctor looked back and caught my eye. I’m not sure what message we exchanged, but it was interrupted by a bolt of lightning coming off of the creature in the vat. Static tingled through the air, making the air on my arms stand on end and leaving a plastic taste in my mouth.

“The activation signal! It’s transmitting!”

I mentally pictured the bolt of lightning travelling up the London Eye and arching off the center of the wheel as the dim blue waves of signal radiated out through London. Mannequins were just beginning to break out of their store windows, killing anyone that got in their way. 

I wonder if Clive listened to my warning.

The Nestene pulsed in its container while the Doctor continued to shout, begging us the leave.

“The stairs have gone!” Rose cried back, grabbing Mickey’s hand and dragging him over to the TARDIS, leaving me to scrabble after them. She jerked on the door for a moment. “I haven’t got the key!”

“We’re gonna die!” Mickey whimpered from somewhere near my right ear. I turned away from the blue box and leaned back against it, mentally pleading with Rose to hurry up and do what she was supposed to do. Follow the damn script, blondie.

After a few moments of crouching over Mickey, her resolve seemed to steal. She straightened up shakily, ignoring Mickey’s recommendation of leaving the Doctor behind, before making a lunge for an ax in the corner.

“I’ve got no A levels.” What even is an A level, anyway? “No job.” She cut the rope that the chain she wanted was connected to. “No future.” Depends what you mean by ‘future’. “But I’ll tell you what I have got. Jericho Street Junior School under-sevens gymnastics team. I got the bronze.” I suppose that that meant she had upper body strength.

Then she swung. On her first pass she managed to dislocate the mannequin holding the Doctor enough for the Time Lord to flip his captor over his shoulder and into the vat, where it stuck headfirst in the Nestene’s mass and began to melt. On the second, she knocked the other mannequin into the vat, the one that I knew had the anti-plastic vial.

I couldn’t see the vial spill onto the creature from where I stood, but I could see the creature’s reaction. It automatically started screaming. Unlike its earlier sounds of anger, now I could hear fear. I almost felt bad for it, but then I remembered all the people that had just died in the creature’s assault, and most of my pity faded away.

The Doctor rushed forward to catch Rose when she swung back over the landing.Then they bounded up the stairs to where Mickey and I stood. Well, I was standing, Mickey was on his knees, embracing the TARDIS like a tree hugger trying to save his favorite tree. 

Explosions shook the room as the Doctor dodged around me, rooting around for his key. Mickey didn’t currently have the wits to move, so he was roughly shoved into the TARDIS as soon as the Time Lord got the door open. 

I filed into the TARDIS after Rose, and had to step over Mickey, who was still crouching on the floor, too bewildered by the ‘bigger-on-the-inside-ness’ to make it to his feet. As soon as the doors were shut, the Doctor was dancing around the console, pulling levers as the familiar TARDIS dematerialization sound filled the air. 

The room jerked roughly to the side. I managed to snag onto one of the coral supports so I didn’t fall flat on my face. Mickey wasn’t so lucky. He, having just had tried to get to his feet, went sprawling. 

As soon as the TARDIS landed and went still, Mickey made a dash for the door. Rose followed more slowly with her phone in hand. I didn’t have to ask to know that she was calling her mom. I felt an empty pang, but refused to acknowledge why.

I retook my place on the jump seat, having no reason to go outside. My bag was still sitting beside the jumpseat, where I left it. I picked it up and unzipped it while the Doctor followed Rose to the door. I checked through my things while they talked, though I didn’t have a reason to. It’s not like anyone would steal stuff from a bag in a TARDIS. But I guess my hands needed something to do. I was so jumpy and fidgety, still shaken by the events of today and nervous about the ones to come. I was tired, but still had a ton of explaining to do before I could call it a day.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	5. Into the TARDIS

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_**~0~0~0~  
** _

_**Chapter Five: Into the TARDIS** _

_**~0~0~0~  
.** _

I was jerked from my thoughts by the sound of the door closing behind me. The Doctor breezed by on his way to the console and remained silent as he began pulling levers. I clung to the seat as the TARDIS lurched into motion.

After a few moments of of trying to not fall into the floor or vomit, the room stopped jolting around and stilled, though I hadn't heard the loud thump that had been present when we landed before. We probably hadn't landed at all and were just floating through the vortex or in deep space somewhere.

The Doctor turned around to face me, leaning his back against the console with his arms crossed.

He got straight to the point. "Start from the beginning. All of it."

So I did. I told him everything, from waking up on the side of the road, to being in the wrong body, to the medallion and the vision with the Mirror Girl. It all came out in a bit of a rush. I hadn't had anyone to talk to about what had happened over the last year, and it felt amazing to get it off my chest. I left visiting Clive and meeting Jack out, though.

The Doctor stayed silent throughout the story, staring at me unblinkingly with those piercing blue eyes of his.

"So… yeah…" I trailed off, mentally begging him to say something.

He continued to stare at me for a moment, digesting what I had just told him.

"So, this Mirror Girl," he started slowly, "you talk about her like she's someone else, even though you saw her in a mirror."

I nodded.

"And you're sure she wasn't you? You weren't just leaving yourself a message and forgotten?"

I furrowed my brow thoughtfully. "I don't know. She just always seemed like someone else. Like, it never really occurred to me that we were the same person." I drummed my fingers on my knee distractedly. "I mean… I _thought_ about it. The idea… you know… occurred to me. But, it just… it never felt right, like…"

I twirled my hair in my fingers, trying to figure out how to explain. "Like… it was like I was looking in a mirror and thinking to myself… except it wasn't my mind that was doing the thinking. Like someone else was in there too, cause I was thinking something completely different at the same time. I don't know, she just… she didn't feel like me." I narrowed my eyes and stared at the floor grating, trying to draw back up the sensation of the vision. "I didn't like her."

"What makes you say that?" The Doctor asked, his brow furrowed seriously.

I popped my knuckles absently. "I don't know. Just a… bad feeling, I guess. She just didn't seem nice. Like…" I glanced up from the floor back into the Doctor's face. "Like when you meet someone for the first time, and they give you this sort of bad feeling, a… vibe. And you just want to stay away. She was just… unsettling and… cold."

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully. "What's the last thing you remember, back in your universe?"

"Umm... I was at my dorm, I think. On my laptop, writing a paper." It was a foggy memory, but the last thing I could consciously remember doing. "I was in a Theater class, and we had to go to a few of the plays that my University was putting on. I had just got back from one of those, so it was probably around 10:30 or 11:00 at night. I wanted to go ahead and finish the critique I had to do on it."

"What play?"

"Othello."

The Doctor nodded again. "Do you remember anythin' else? Anything that might've suggested that somethin' was off?"

I shook my head. "No. I mean, I had a headache, but that's not unusual. I used to have bad allergies and it was the middle of March, so everything was blooming."

"Anything else you can tell me about Mirror Girl?"

"Uh… she was skinny. Like, really skinny." I patted my stomach to demonstrate. "Super thin. Thinner than I am now. In the vision and when I woke up, she was basically emancipated. Literally skin and bones." I had made an effort to gain some weight in the last year, so I at least kind of looked healthy. "Is that important?'

"Everything's important," the Doctor answered distractedly. He straightened up and wandered around the console, lost in thought. He stopped and fidded with a few switches, not looking at me. "Ever owned a pocket watch?"

He asked the question so nonchalantly, so casually that it nearly broke my heart.

"I know what you're asking," I answered. "And no, I don't think so. No pocket watches, just the medallion thing that I gave you." I watched him quietly for a second. He was staring at what was probably his reflection in the glass of the console. "I'm sorry," I added quietly.

"Why should you be sorry?" He responded, snapping out of it, suddenly too cheerful for it to be how he actually felt. "Tell me more about this tv show. If what happened today with the Nestene Consciousness was on this… _Doctor Who_ … how did it compare to the real thing?"

"Pretty accurately," I admitted. "Most of it, anyway. Like, parts of it were scary accurate… same sentences, same movements… down to the facial expressions… but…"

"But what about the other parts?"

"Well, I mean, I'm here. So basically everything that was said or done to… accommodate… me was different. Like me telling Rose to get in the TARDIS, or the questions she asked me… when you grabbed my hand on the bridge… that was different. Then you have background stuff that just wasn't happening on screen. And then, like, the Nestene Consciousness was different…"

"Different how?"

"You know, real. Because when they did it in my universe, it was fake. CGI from 2005. It looked fake. Same goes for the TARDIS." I gestured around the room. "The basic idea is the same, but there's a huge difference between there and here."

"What about us, the people, I mean?" He patted his cheeks. "You had to have actors playing us. Do we look the same?"

"Yeah. Exact." I thought for a second. "I think you might be a little taller, but then again, I'm shorter than I used to be."

The Doctor smirked. "What's my actor's name?"

"Christopher Eccleston."

"Is he any good?"

"Kinda have to be to pull you off."

"Shame," he said, a playful twinkle in his eyes, "I would've liked to see him work."

I had to bite my tongue to avoid saying 'you can' out loud. I had the episodes, so it would be the work of a moment to show him the first episode, the one we had already done. Really, that's probably what I should do, but for some reason the idea was extremely unappealing. Maybe it was because we'd already had a rough start; the idea of being on a tv show had been tough enough for him to swallow. And if I were in his position, would I feel better if I actually saw the footage? No, I would not. Not to mention if he knew I had them, he might straight up make me show him all of them despite his no foreknowledge warning. What if he thought they were too dangerous and deleted them?

I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat. I really needed those episodes.

The Doctor sighed and rubbed his eyes, the facade was wiped away like a layer of makeup. I watched him pace slowly around the console, plainly lost in thought. He retrieved the medallion from the inside of his jacket and toyed with it absently, caressing and polishing the already shiny metal until it positively glowed.

Was he going to explain it? I bit my tongue to keep from asking

After several minutes ticked by in silence, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the console, staring at the object in his hands as he addressed me.

"I need to think this through. You should probably get some rest. I know humans need a lot of it." He jerked his head to one of the dark corridors that branched off from the room we were in now. "Down that hall, second right, down a bit, third left. That'll take you to the bedroom area. The TARDIS'll pick you out a room. Go on, I'll be in here when you wake up."

Apparently not.

"Thank you," I said politely as I stuffed my laptop back in my bag and shouldered it quickly before scurrying off in the direction he had indicated.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

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My heart skipped a beat, or several, as I ventured deeper into the place that had previously only existed in my imagination. I had seen bits and pieces of the TARDIS in various episodes, primarily in 'Journey to the Centre of the TARDIS', but that limited image of this wondrous place wouldn't be accurate for another few centuries.

The corridors themselves were… well, corridors. Smooth and metal, just like you'd expect in an alien ship, but the scifi aura almost bordered horror. The once shiny steel was dusty, stained, and seemed to stretch forever into a dark abyss. An eerie feeling creeped up my spine as I trudged along, only able to see about ten feet in front of me at any given moment, the occasional emergency light my only guide.

I'm safe on the TARDIS. Not in some horror game. What were his instructions again? Second right, third left? Or was it second left, third right? Then again it could be third left, second right.

Crap. I paused at the second corridor that branched off from the right of the one I was on. I _REALLY_ didn't want to get lost. I had never had a great sense of direction, so if I got lost, there was no going back. I could tell that the Doctor already had a relatively low opinion of me, so I really did not need to add 'got hopelessly lost in the TARDIS' and 'can't follow simple instructions' to the list of reasons why I could be a sucky travelling companion.

My heart pounded anxiously in my ears as I followed my first instinct and scrambled down the new corridor that branched off to right. I counted the following three left corridors as I jogged along the seemingly endless maze of rusted steel.

Finally, I came to a door. Like everything else in this metallic wasteland, it was cold, dingy, and worn. It was also closed, much to my dismay. No handle either. I ran my hands frantically along the rough material, trying to ignore the fear that was starting to creep up my spine. Three doors to the left, right? I had counted three. And this was the left. Damn It, must've gotten the instructions wrong. Hopefully I could retrace my steps and find my way back to the console room… but I didn't want to have to ask him again.

I started back the way I came, hands shoved in my jacket pockets. This was so fucking embarrassing. He had said second right, third left, hadn't he? I was sure of it. Almost sure, anyway. I stopped at the end of the corridor. I couldn't ask again.

I spun around and marched back down the creepy hall. Maybe I had just miscounted doors. Let's try again.

Unfortunately, I hadn't miscounted the first time, leaving standing in front of the same god damn door, staring at it with my hand on my hips, annoyed and starting to panic.

Still not going to ask. This had to be the right door. Maybe I just wasn't doing it right. I ran my hands along the metal again. This wasn't just some random ship, now was it? This was the TARDIS, a sentient, impossibly complex machine. Maybe she was just…

"Please?" I whined piteously, leaning forward to rest my forehead against the door.

…Dicking with me.

My hand came into contact with a large round button on he thick metal door frame that had definitely not been there before. A door-opening button. I pressed it and the metal sheet in front of me slid away to reveal a slightly better lit hall.

I glared up at the top of the door frame and sighed. Definitely dicking with me. That either meant she liked me, or really didn't.

"Thank you," I directed wearily at the top of the door frame, hoping I wouldn't piss her off.

The newly opened hallway was significantly different to the corridors I had been in. It looked sort of like an old hotel that had once been worthy of five stars… like fifty years ago, and had gone downhill since then. The floor was covered with faded red carpet, the walls had once been a regal gold color, but the wallpaper was starting to peel. The pale, dirty looking light came from a elegant golden chandelier that hung from the high arching ceiling, covered with cobwebs. The place smelled as old as it looked, a heavy musk clouded the stale air and made breathing undesirable.

I chewed my lip and toyed with the straps of my bag, glancing at the variety of doors that flanked the walls. Even though I didn't know what the TARDIS had been like in the past, I could guess that it had gone downhill. Everything was old, worn, and clearly hadn't been occupied in a while.

Which room was mine? I reached out and jiggled the ornate doorknob of the room closest to me.

Locked.

I tried the next one down. Locked again.

Can we not do this again?

I gave the third doorknob a jiggle and turned at the sound of a door creaking from somewhere behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled at the sight of the door directly behind me slowly opening, revealing a seemingly impenetrable wall of darkness beyond.

I swallowed in a fruitless attempt to replace some of the moisture that had left my suddenly-dry mouth. There was nothing dangerous in the TARDIS. Well, nothing dangerous that wasn't supposed to be there. And even if the TARDIS didn't like me, it wasn't like her to intentionally put passengers in danger. The creepy door opening was probably just the TARDIS herself, telling me my sleeping assignment.

One step, then another, and another, and I was across the hall, peering into the dark room. Once I was out of the harsh-ish light of the hall, I could tell that the room, my(?) room, wasn't really dark at all. Well, it was dark, just not pitch black, as it had previously appeared. From my vantage point in the doorway, I could see an open space that seemed to be drenched in evening light, which streamed in from a large set of windows on the other side of the room to pool on the shiny hardwood floors.

I stepped in the rest of the way so I could see the rest of what appeared to be a very large, spacious studio apartment. To the right of the room was a couch, coffee table, and what appeared to be a gigantic bean-bag nest/chair thing that was as tall as I was, all surrounding a flat screen tv set. To the left was a large four poster bed with squashy looking purple blankets and pillows, flanked on either side by bookcases. Straight ahead, on the other side of the room were large, rounded windows, through which I could see dark green leaves and even a few tree branches. Beside the windows was a screen door, which I assumed led to the outside-inside-the-TARDIS.

I hurried over to the door to investigate and stumbled, having not seen the step up that separated the living room area from the bed and window section. I regained my balance, happened to glance up, and gasped.

The ceiling wasn't a ceiling. The walls stretched up and up and seemed to fade out into an evening sky in a very Hogwarts-y fashion. Clouds, bleeding red from a sunset I couldn't see, inched slowly from one side of the room to the other before seamlessly fading away into the distance.

I must've stood there for ages, just watching the extremely realistic sky and trying to remind myself that it wasn't really the sky above my head. It was an illusion. I was inside. Inside a spaceship.

My heart fluttered until I thought it would burst.

I was in the TARDIS.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	6. The Bride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter were the M rating really kicks in. 
> 
> WARNING: Violence, graphic descriptions, death, sexual innuendo

  
  


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_**~0~0~0~  
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_**Chapter Six: The Bride** _

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I quivered in fear as the Grey Skin man twirled a strand of my red hair in fascination, his black painted teeth shining an inch away from my face as his blue lips peeled back in a disgusting grin. His breath reeked of rotting meat and wild onions and his bare grey chest was tattered and streaked with scars and warpaint.

The Grey male traced his free hand around my ear, down my jaw, caressing my neck with a single finger before it plucked at the collar of my shirt, just dipping down at the edge of my cleavage.

I had to press my lips together hard to keep from whimpering. With my back pressed against the rough bark of the tree, there was nowhere to run.

"Don't touch her!" The Doctor snarled. He sounded tough, but I didn't have to see him from around the Grey Man to know that he was in no position to help me, knocked to the ground beside the decapitated corpse with a spear at his throat.

"Pretty pretty girl," a female voice cooed from somewhere to my left.

I turned my head slightly to see a female Grey Skin peering over the shoulder of the male, sporting the same dark ratty hair, ragged clothing, and black smile as her male companion.

"I've never seen hair of that color," a voice echoed from somewhere on the other side of the man that had me pinned to the tree.

"Or skin so pale," the female added. I bit my lip and screwed up my eyes as she reached out to stroke my cheek.

"A fine Chweepch she would make," the male murmured, his smile changing from malevolent to what he must have thought to be flirty.

"An outsider Chweepch?" The female scoffed, her curiosity changing to irritation. "Don't be ridiculous, Maheach. Outsiders have their purposes. Bonding is not one of them."

"That's not what Kahpreench thinks," the male, Maheach, retorted. He backed a few steps away from me and jerked his head at one of the other males in the group. "Take them."

I was grabbed roughly by my upper arms and half carried, half dragged deeper into the jungle. I heard the sounds of a struggle and craned my neck around to see the Doctor receiving similar treatment. Once upright, he walked, being tall enough to keep his feet on the ground. His eyes were fixed and cold; the seriousness etched into his face brought out by the trickle of blood that ran from his temple and down his cheek. His eyes met mine briefly and softened slightly.

"It'll be okay," he mouthed, though I was too far away to hear.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

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**_~0~0~0~_ **

When I had woken up from my first night on the TARDIS, I had been refreshed and mentally prepared to deal with whatever questions, tests, or explanations that the Doctor had prepared for me. I had eaten a bagel that I'd found in my apartment's small kitchen, showered, and tripped over one of the numerous plants that decorated the room. I even had time to marvel the ceiling again, and noted that the sky seemed to change according to my stage in my sleep cycle. As in, evening stars were just starting to wink into a periwinkle sky when I had been getting dressed for bed and by the time I'd laid down I had been able to look up into an infinite expanse of stars. Then when I woke up, the 'sun' was just starting to edge over the 'horizon' and by the time I left my room, the ceiling overhead was a deep, clear mid-morning blue.

But instead of acting like I thought he would and restarting our conversation from the night before, the Doctor had simply looked up from his place underneath the console, made a snide comment about how long I slept, and began pulling levers, sending me sprawling on the floor.

"Where are we going?" I gasped, finally having gained a grip on the railing.

"There's something I need to check," he answered curtly, punctuating every other word with the push of a button or pull of a lever.

The TARDIS jolted and jerked about for another minute or two before landing with its trademark thud. The Doctor was immediately out the door, barely a second after the thud had stopped reverberating through my bones. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if he wanted me to come too. Well... he'd left the door cracked.

I stumbled to the doors, still a bit dizzy from the ride, stuck my head outside, and was immediately blinded by bright light and hit by a wall of hot, humid air. I squinted against the light and waited for my eyes to adjust. After a moment, I was able to see the hot white sand, outlined on one side by an unrealistically turquoise sea and a thick, leafy jungle on the other.

I stepped out of the safety of the TARDIS and onto the sunny beach, already sweating in the thick, humid air. I wish I had worn something lighter, being in the jeans, long sleeve button up, and army green jacket that I was. Before I closed the TARDIS door, I shrugged off my jacket and threw it back inside carelessly.

The Doctor was already a ways down the beach by the time I caught up with him. His dark, leather-clad form stood out starkly against the snow white sand.

"Where are we?" I breathed, taken aback by the sheer beauty of the tropical shore.

"Irrodious Prime," he said simply, still gazing down the beach. "Third planet of the Solonc Sector. 'Bout a million light years from Earth."

"This is another planet?" I squeaked in astonishment, gazing around at the scenery with newfound wonder.

"No. Kansas," he huffed sarcastically. "It's a spaceship. It goes to other planets."

I chose to ignore the snarky remark. I was on another planet. THIS WAS ANOTHER PLANET. What must've been an embarrassingly excited grin stretched across my face. My heart was about to beat right out of my chest because I WAS ON ANOTHER PLANET.

"Why're we here?" I inquired, not really caring about the answer because I WAS ON ANOTHER PLANET.

"Somethin' I want to check."

"Yeah, you already said that," I retorted, not taking my eyes off the endless horizon. "Check what?"

"You wouldn't understand," he shot back, starting to walk up the beach and toward the jungle.

"Probably not," I admitted as I skidded after him. "But I can try."

The Doctor froze, every muscle rigid like a dog on alert. "Shut up."

I immediately froze as well, knowing perfectly well that when the Doctor was serious, it was for good reason. I pressed my lips together tightly and tried to quiet my breathing, straining my ears and scouring the tree line for whatever had set off my six foot tall sniffer dog.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the ocean breeze gently stirring the jungle leaves. Then I heard it. Muffled shouts and screams. Breaking branches and footsteps.

The Doctor tensed up even further and I could see that he was about to take off toward the sounds. I braced myself as well, ready to follow. I did NOT want to be left alone on an alien planet; especially one where shit was going down.

There was no need. A half second later, figures broke through the trees. The Doctor reached out and dragged me behind him. From my place cowering behind his shoulder, I could see the figures were running, aliens, plainly terrified, and headed straight for us. As they got closer, I could see that instead of the human variety of skin tones, they ranged from magenta to cotton candy pink. Other than that, they looked human; pink humans with long brown hair and slightly too-long arms. There were about ten in all, all wearing dark green uniforms similar to the jacket that I had abandoned in the TARDIS.

"Run!" One of the frontrunners, a lanky female, shouted at the Doctor and I.

"What is it?" The Doctor called back. But before she could answer, a red tipped spear came streaking out of the trees like a bolt of lightning, piercing the female's skull from the back, the tip peeking out from the center of her forehead.

As she crumpled to the ground, one of her companions, a burly male, let out a strangled cry of anguish and stopped to crouch over her body. He pulled at her for a second, trying to get her back to her feet but was stopped when another spear pierced his throat.

I watched in shock and horror as he crumpled beside his companion, gurgling as his lifeblood spurted from the hole in his throat.

The group was on top of us now. There surviving members streamed around us, skidding as their feet hit the sand. The Doctor hesitated for a moment, trying to see what they were running from. More figures were melting out of the trees. They were shaped much like the group that had just passed, but instead of green uniforms, they wore ragged bits of clothing, their bare skin dark grey and streaked with war paint. They carried spears and bows.

A spear thudded into the sand less that foot away from us, snapping the Doctor out of whatever thought process he was in.

"Run!" He ordered, shoving me back down the beach. "TARDIS!"

And we took off at a sprint. For once, I was glad of my new body; it was lean and quick, allowing me to keep pace with the Time Lord. Though, I was running faster than I usually might because I was fucking terrified.

Spears and arrows thudded on either side of us, scattering sand every which way. How far had we walked? We hadn't gone that far. But now the TARDIS seemed miles away, sitting innocently at the shoreline in the distance.

Suddenly, the group of pink aliens skidded to a stop and started stumbling over each other in panic. Up ahead, I could see what had spooked them. Another group of grey-skinned natives were flowing out of the trees and onto the beach from the other direction, cutting off their escape route and, consequently, our path to the TARDIS.

The pink group scattered as the natives swarmed around them, slaughtering the pink people mercilessly. A few pink aliens managed to slip away and darted back toward the Doctor and I.

"This way!" The Doctor growled, grabbing me by the arm and swinging me around bodily towards the treeline, where there was a gap in the assaulting aliens.

We sprinted into the trees, dodging spears and tripping over vines, followed by one of the pink aliens, who had been hit in the shoulder by an arrow. It didn't seem to be slowing him down though. He ran well enough despite the broken shaft protruding from his shoulder and blood soaked shirt.

I have no idea how long we ran, just that by the time the shouts and screams of the natives had started to fade and the Doctor started to slow, I was out of breath and aching.

The Doctor spun around and faced the pink alien, finally winded but in much better shape than I was.

"You," he snapped at the wounded alien. "What's happening? Who're you lot and why're you being chased?"

"I'm Chanclerig," the alien rattled off in response to the Doctor's militaristic tones. "Member of the Interstellar Anthropological Team."

"Anthropologists," the Doctor echoed, stepping forward to take a look at Chanclerig's shoulder. "Space Anthropologists. I'm the Doctor, by the way. An' that's Buffy."

I didn't bother to extend the greeting. Leaned over with my hands on my knees, I struggled to catch my breath. I really wish I had, though, because just as the Doctor reached out to tend to Chanclerig's shoulder, a rock blade slashed out from the bushes behind the Space Anthropologist, hitting him at the base of his neck.

A strangled scream ripped from my throat as Chanclerig's head slid off of his shoulders and rolled to the ground, his final expression of shock and fear plastered to his face forever, glassy eyes turned to the sky.

The Doctor, ever ready and fresh from a war zone, managed to knock the blade out of the Grey Native's hands. But before the Time Lord could make his next move another native sprung from the undergrowth, cracking the butt of his spear against the Doctor's head.

The Time Lord stumbled to the ground, dazed. I staggered backward, hand over my mouth. My mind was screaming at me to run, but my muscles wouldn't obey. One of the natives, Maheach, as I would learn, lunged, pinning me to a tree with his spear hovering menacingly over my heart.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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I was struggling not to cry and beginning to hyperventilate as we got closer to the grey native's camp. Grey figures were poking out from the trees, close enough for me to get a good look at the crude bone piercings, elaborate skin paintings, tattoos, and startling green eyes.

One of the natives passed by me and my captors, carrying Chanclerig's head. A horrified squeak escaped my mouth when the native roughly shoved the head on a spike. I'll never forget the crunch it made; the sound of wood cracking bone as the dead alien's skull was mounted up beside others, some fresh and pink from today's attack; others rotting, dripping decayed flesh and maggots as they spoiled in the tropical sun.

I screwed my eyes closed and gagged. Chanclerig's head would look like that soon.

The spiked heads formed a barrier around the alien settlement; a kind of grotesque fence to frighten off any who may dare to enter. It was effective, though. If I had any choice in the matter, I wouldn't come anywhere near this place.

Beyond the rotting heads was a large clearing, easily twice the size of a football field, decorated with a variety of huts made from logs and dried jungle leaves. The smaller huts surrounded a much larger structure, the larger one being made of mud and clay so that it resembled an oddly spherical hill.

The Doctor and I were taken to what appeared to be a large wooden cage, where the few surviving members of the Anthropological team had already been stored.

The aliens that were escorting me opened the cage and shoved me in. One of the anthropologists, a magenta woman, caught me and held on as the Doctor was thrown in beside us.

I buried my face in her shoulder. I hadn't realized it before, but I was trembling. She tightened her grip and rubbed my back soothingly while the Doctor found his footing. I peeled myself away from the magenta woman and watched as the Doctor strode over to the cage door. He rattled it experimentally, gave up, and paced back over.

"All right?" He asked, his eyes roving over the rag tag group to finally settle on me.

"If you can call watching our friends die 'all right', then yeah. Amazing," a sour voice sliced through the hot air. "Peachy."

It belonged to a coral colored man with stormy grey eyes who looked as sour as he sounded. He shot a challenging look at the Doctor, who glared back unblinkingly with his piercing blue eyes.

"Wasn't talking to you," the Time Lord growled. Suddenly he switched moods, or masks, again and was overly cheerful. The Doctor clapped his hands. "Right then. I'm the Doctor an' that's Buffy. I think introductions are an order. Who wants to go first?"

There were four Anthropologists in the cage. The coral man, the self-appointed leader, introduced himself as Healrig. The magenta woman that had helped me was named Plumkig, and she introduced her friend Fealrig, who was almost purple. The other member of the party, a plump cotton candy colored man, shyly stated that his name was Glagig.

Over the next few minutes, we established that the Interstellar Anthropological Team, or IAT, was from Irodsor, a planet two star systems away. They had originally numbered twenty and had set up a cloaked camp in the trees when a storm had caused catastrophic systems failure, exposing them to the elements and the angry natives. The natives, known as the Irawachch, where a relatively undocumented tribe; but they were considered violent and unpredictable.

Several times during the discussion, I thought I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Shadows flickering in and out of view. Except when I turned to seek out the source, there was nothing there. Nerves, probably. I was completely freaked and bordering hysteria.

"... not to mention there have been some accounts of cannibalism when they encounter other tribes," Healrig finished with a weary smirk.

A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up from my throat.

"It's not funny," Fealrig snapped.

"No, it's not," I admitted, feeling extremely lightheaded.

Much to my surprise, the Doctor reached out and rested a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"We're going to be fine," he soothed before returning his attention to the anthropologists. "Have you got a ship?"

"Not anymore," Plumkig responded. "It was what we built our base around. There's no way to get it airborne without repairs."

The Doctor nodded. "We've still got my ship, that little blue box on the beach. That's our ticket out."

"A wooden box?" Healrig sneered, curling his lip distastefully. "I saw that thing on the beach. It's four feet wide and doesn't have engines. What sort of ship doesn't have engines?"

"A fantastic one!" The Doctor retorted. "And if you haven't noticed, it's your only way off this planet at the moment. So unless you have anything helpful to say, shut it."

"That's enough," Plumkig interrupted sharply. "It doesn't matter what kind of ship it is, as long as it can get us out. Though we still have the problem of…"

"We're in a cage," Healrig sighed, "and the box is on the beach. See? Still hopeless."

"You're not helping." Plumkig growled and rubbed her face stressfully. "But he's got a point. A ship is no use if we can't get to it."

The Doctor walked back over to the cage door and tested it again. "It doesn't have any real sort of lock. They're using a pulley system to keep it closed." He spun around and scanned the top of the cage. "Up there." He pointed to a platform in the trees behind the cage. "That's where they're controllin' it. Wood system. So the sonic's no use."

"Exactly," Healrig snapped, "we're stuck, so if you'd like to get with the program…"

The Doctor bristled and opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the returning Irawachch. A large group of them swarmed over to the cage, adults and children alike, grinning and snapping excitedly, even going as far as reaching through the bars to snatch at our clothes. We all quickly clumped up in the center of the cage, just out of the Irawachch's reach.

I found myself squished in between the Doctor and Glagig, not that I was complaining. I would much rather be squished than groped by the Irawachch.

Suddenly the alien natives outside went silent. If I peered around the Doctor I could see the grey aliens parting to create a path to the cage door. Three terrifyingly impressive figures made their way to the front, led by a tall muscular male Irawachch.

Clearly the leader of the tribe, the large male was the most decorated. Beads, feathers, and even pieces of bone were braided into his dark, wiry hair. He was covered head to toe in tattoos and paint with only a few ragged pieces of cloth covering the areas I had no desire to see. Behind him was an ancient looking woman with a cane of leather and bone and an equally old man that had a beard to his knees.

"Bring them," the younger male instructed. "The three."

"What do you mean, the three?" The Doctor demanded. He must've known what they meant, though, because one of his hands curled around my upper arm.

Four armed guards with spears opened the cage, menacing us with the deadly tips while three other large Irawachch charged in to grab Plumkig, Fealrig, and me.

"Oi!" The Doctor snapped, trying to stand between us and the guards. "Don't…!"

He was pushed back roughly and forced to stand out of the way, a spear tip an inch away from his nose.

"Doctor!" I cried out as I struggled against the guard in blind panic. I kicked and fought, but was much smaller than the man half pushing, half carrying me away. "Doctor! Please!"

"It's alright, Buff. You're going to be fine," the Doctor called back.

The last thing I remembered was struggling to turn to look at the Time Lord. He was the Doctor. He could save us. But when I looked to him for reassurance, he was gazing out at me from the cage, his hands clasping the wooden bars with a frightened, helpless expression. Plumkig and Fealrig were struggling along side me, and together we were forced into the giant clay hut.

No, the last thing I remembered was the shadow figure, hanging around the edge of the hut.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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Fire.

Mud.

Screaming.

Blood.

Smoke.

Flesh.

Everything was dark.

Why was it dark? Is something wrong with my eyes?

I turned my head to the side.

No. I could see the fires. The torches burning in the distance. My eyes were fine.

It was night.

How was it night?

It was noonish a second ago.

There was pressure on my arms.

Oh, I was being carried.

Carried between two shadowy figures. Too dark. Can't tell who.

There was grass under my feet.

And mud.

What happened to my shoes?

Bare feet. No shoes. Oh well. I was being carried anyway.

Carried where, exactly?

In front of me, I could just make out the grassy slope leading to the cage. It was so dark, the only light that was doing any good was the torchlight coming from the platform behind the cage.

The light illuminated the silhouette of a man. Standing at the cage door with his hands on his hips.

"Buffy?" The man called. I knew that voice. The Doctor. He sounded strange.

The cage door opened with a creak and I was shoved in. I staggered, uncertain how to stand without the aid of the two people. Suddenly, I found myself circled by two strong arms and got a face full of leather.

"Buffy." The Doctor tipped my head back gently so I could see up into his face. I could just make out the blueish gleam of his eyes and the mole on his cheek in the faint light. "What happened?'

I blinked. Happened. Something had happened. There was a gap. I went into the hut and…

"I don't know," I answered blankly. There was nothing there. A gap filled with smoke and fire. Panic started bubbling up in my chest and my muscles seized with fear. "I can't remember…"

"It's alright. Doesn't matter," the Doctor said firmly, tightening his grip and tucking my head under his chin.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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_**~0~0~0~** _

I woke up to a bright light. Someone was shaking my shoulder. I grumbled in protest and buried my head into my hands.

"Buff. Wake up," a familiar Northern accent accompanied the ceaseless shaking. "They brought food. It's not half bad."

Against my better judgement, I forced my eyes open. My head was pounding. With a groan, I pushed myself into a sitting position, the leather jacket that had been balled up under my head sticking to my cheek. I blearily looked over at the Time Lord, who was sitting beside me with his back against the bars, sipping at what appeared to be some kind of soup.

He passed me what looked like half of a blue coconut, eyeing his jacket warily. "Hope you didn't drool on it. I'm quite fond of that coat."

"I don't drool," I grumbled tiredly, staring into the alien coconut dully.

The Doctor cast me a doubtful glance. "If you say so. Eat up."

"What is it?" I mumbled, swishing around the chunky orange liquid with my finger while trying to discern through the fog in my brain if it was actually worth eating.

"A mix of the local fish and fruit," he answered meekly, taking another sip. "I scanned it, it's not toxic or anythin' too strange. Just tastes a bit funny."

I sniffed the fluid and chanced a sip, only to wrinkle my nose at the taste. Warm, sour, and savory. Definitely like fish. Salmon and sour strawberries. I was about to put it to the side, but then my stomach growled and I realized how hungry I was. The last meal I'd had was the bagel on the TARDIS, however long ago that was. I screwed up my face and tried another swallow. Disgusting.

When I had finished most of the lukewarm berry and fish smoothie, I glanced over at the Doctor, who had been unusually quiet, to discover that he was watching me eat with an unreadable expression.

"What?" I asked, the alien slop having cleared my head somewhat, and my sinuses.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, his voice strangely gentle. His eyes met mine, flickering over my face intently, like he was searching for something.

"Okay, I… I think." I was in one piece. Sore and stuck in a cage. But not currently dying.

"Sure?" He murmured, holding my gaze. "You don't look alright."

"Huh?" I tore my gaze away from the Time Lord and looked down at myself. My shoes were gone, like I had noticed the night before. My clothes were torn and tattered, but more or less in one piece. I looked like I had been put through a blender and then rolled through the mud. I reached up and tried to rub some of the dried mud from my forearms, which were exposed now, as my long sleeves had been torn off at the seams. "Oh."

The Doctor hummed in acknowledgement. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh…" I shook my head, trying to piece together the bits and pieces of memory. "The hut. We.. uh… went inside… and then the next thing I knew we were outside again. At night. When they brought me back here."

The Doctor nodded. "That's what you said last night, right before you passed out."

"I passed out?" Not exactly a surprise.

"Yep," the Doctor confirmed solemnly. "Spent the rest of the night kickin' about and crying out in your sleep." His voice was so soft, like a concerned parent trying to get a child to settle and open up. "Sure you don't remember anything?"

I shook my head in bewilderment. "No. Just… flashes." I did a jellyfish-like gesture to indicate flashing. "Fire… and… and… screaming…" A sense of dread washed over me. "What happened to the others? Plumkig… and… " ...names…

"Fealrig didn't come back," The Doctor said slowly, "and Plumkig…" He jerked his head to the other side of the cage.

I glanced over to see Glagig squatting beside Plumkig, trying to coax her to eat some of the same stuff the Doctor had given me. The pink man wasn't having much luck, though. The magenta anthropologist was curled up in a ball, her hands twisted up in her disheveled hair, eyes wild and empty, like she was looking at something terrible very far away.

"She was brought back before you," the Doctor said, answering my unasked question. "Hasn't spoken a word. Just sits there, staring." I turned back and met his gaze again. "Maybe it's best you don't remember."

I felt sick. "What could do something like that to a person?"

"Loads of things. I have a few ideas, though."

I furrowed my brow. "Like what?"

"Doesn't matter." The Doctor redirected his attention to some of the people outside the cage. I had a sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly what had happened, but didn't want to tell me. I elected not to press and followed the Doctor's gaze to the bustle of activity beyond our confinement.

The large Irawachch man, the chief, or leader, or whatever they called him, was having a morning stroll through the camp. If you could call it that. It was more like he was having a strut, based on the way he puffed himself up, flexed, and strode across the clearings between the houses like he was the most important alien in the universe. When he got within thirty yards of the cage, he started helping a few of the other tribe members move rocks and logs.

"What are they doing?" I asked, having just noticed the construction project.

"Building a platform. Looks like they're preparing for some sort of ceremony." The Doctor stretched up a bit, trying to get a better view. He snorted in amusement. "Looks like you've got an admirer."

"Huh?"

"Big bloke. Kahpreench, they call him. Healrig says he's the leader of the joint."

I returned my attention to the Irawachch man in question. Sure enough, Kahpreench kept glancing in my direction. I watched as he single handedly moved a large log and set it into place, but not before looking sideways to make sure I was watching. I sighed and rubbed my temples while the Doctor snickered.

"It's not funny," I groaned, swatting at the Time Lord. "Stop acting like it's a good thing."

The Doctor dodged my hand easily. "Actually, it's perfect. Get on the boss man's good side. That's our ticket out."

I looked at the Doctor in horror. " _What?_ "

"You heard me. Me an' Glagig discussed it while you were asleep."

"You discussed it? _Without me?"_ No. No way. I was _not_ going to be responsible for everyone's lives. "I… I can't!"

"Why not?" The Doctor pressed, still grinning; plainly not seeing my terror.

"I'm… I'm…" My mouth opened and closed frantically, like a fish out of water as I tried to find a way to explain that I was terrified and horrible on the spot. If this was up to me, we were all going to die. "I'm not… qualified…"

The Time Lord gave me a look that was equal parts confusion and amusement. "Qualified? You're the most qualified person in this cage."

I did the gaspy fish thing again, trying to find an excuse. "How do… how do you even know that'd work? What if he's not actually that into me? What then?"

Glagig had given up on trying to feed Plumkig and had meandered over to where the Doctor and I sat. "Don't worry. He is."

I turned to him with a questioning look.

Glagig pointed to Kahpreench's head. "I've been studying their rituals. Look at his hair."

Sure enough, braided into the Irawachch chieftain's hair, right above his ear for all to see, was a streak of bright red. A lump formed in my throat. The way the red streak glinted in the sunlight was too natural looking to be paint. It was hair… and it was extremely obvious as to who's it was.

I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out where he'd taken it from.

"Don't worry," Glagig offered, "it's not noticeable."

"It's a courtship ritual," Healrig cackled from his spot in the corner. "Suitors take a lock of hair from the person they want to bond with, so everyone else knows their intentions."

I groaned again and buried my face in my hands, dread washing over me. Then I looked back up. "Wait… _courtship ritual?_ "

The Doctor nodded. "Exactly. You're in a position to earn trust. He wants to impress you. We can use that to our advantage."

Bile rose to the back of my throat and my heart fluttered fearfully. "This is a bad idea."

"Nah," the Doctor said with a grin. "You'll do fine."

"But do what, exactly?"

"He's probably going to stop by soon," Glagig offered. "So if you play your cards right, you might be able to get him to let us out."

" _But play them how?"_

"We don't know exactly how the courtship process goes," the Doctor explained, "so you're just gonna have to make it up as you go along. But whatever happens, we'll play along."

"Still a bad idea," I whined. I flopped back down against the bars of the cage in anxious defeat. Glagig ambled back over to where Plumkig still sat, not having moved once during the whole exchange. The Doctor sat back down beside me.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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We sat in silence for a while, neither of us having anything to say, me drowning in nerves and him lost in thought. Eventually, movement caught my eye.

It was the same as it had been before; something shifting around in the corner of my vision. This time, however, I was able to direct my full attention to the shadow. Paralyzing fear prickled down my spine, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. Now that I was looking directly at it, I could tell that it wasn't a shadow at all. It wasn't really anything at all. Just a mass of… of _something._ Something that was clear and essentially invisible. I could sense it's presence more than I could see it. The only visual confirmation I had of its existence was that the air around it positively vibrated, like I was standing right next to a huge engine.

I watched it cross the cage silently, moving through the air like something would just below the surface of the water; light and air distorted around it like some weird, living photoshop error.

The Doctor, who hadn't been great at recognizing my fear before, made up for it now.

"What is it?" He asked urgently. He leaned forward so that he could see into my face, and turned to scour the place I couldn't tear my eyes away from. "What do you see?"

He couldn't see it.

"I… I don't know…"

The Doctor retrieved the sonic from his coat pocket. He scanned the cage and checked the readings.

"What is it?" I asked, suddenly feeling extremely nauseous.

He put the sonic away. "It's alright, Buff." The Time Lord reached out to turn my face towards him gently. "I know what you're seeing. It's alright, it can't hurt you."

"It was there…" I whispered, tears of fear and grief welling up in my eyes. "In the hut…"

"I know." The Doctor tenderly placed a finger in front of my lips. "Don't think about it. Clear your mind, we'll talk about it later. I'll explain when we're safe on the TARDIS. But until then, promise me you won't think about what happened, not yet, at least. Can you do that for me?"

I nodded and wiped the tears away quickly. It wouldn't be hard to not think about it. The memory that had floated to the surface was disjointed and vague. He was right; later. One scary thing at a time.

Thankfully (I guess), scary thing one chose that moment to make his move, forcing me to stop paying attention to scary thing two. Kahpreench strutted over to the cage, accompanied by two guards armed with spears.

Remembering the Doctor's request, I took a deep breath and steeled myself as the guards signalled for the cage to be opened. The others backed away to the far edges of the cage while I stepped forward, approaching my (sort of) fiance as confidently as I could (not that that was saying much), making sure I made no movements that suggested I was about to run or fight.

Kahpreench smiled eagerly as I came to stand in front of him, closer than I was comfortable with, but hey… who the hell cared about my comfort in this situation. I tried not to gag at the smell or cower at the alien's height. He must've been about seven feet tall, every inch of him muscular and painted.

I returned the smile despite the fact I felt like crying. "Hi."

He puffed out his chest. "Hello." His voice was low and booming. He must have a set hidden away under those rags.

I forced myself not to shudder at the thought. Hopefully I would never find out for sure.

"You wear my hair well," I cooed, hoping I was better at this than I thought.

"Anything that comes from your head is handsome," he returned with a smile.

Says the man wearing bones as ornament. PLEASE don't mean that in the 'I'm going to wear your eyeballs on a necklace' kind of way.

"Come, we have much to discuss," Kahpreench instructed, extending an arm for me to take.

I accepted. As we walked off towards the clay mound, I glanced back to my friends in the cage. The Doctor nodded, Healrig scowled, and Glagig gave me a smile and two thumbs up.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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The inside of the mound was extremely familiar, like an extreme case of deja vu. The inside was dark and muddy, the only light coming from a circular hole in the ceiling, through which a decent amount of sunlight trickled through. In the center of the circular room was a stone platform, approximately ten feet tall, like a huge altar, directly under the hole in the roof.

I pushed away the memory of climbing the altar, gazing down at the cheering crowd below as the air buzzed and rippled all around me.

Around the edges of the room were several deep pools of water, reflecting the light from the ceiling on the walls in complex, living patterns.

Waiting for us inside was the old man and woman from yesterday. The old woman smiled in greeting as we approached. The man might've smiled too, but it was hard to tell what his mouth was doing behind his ridiculously long facial hair.

"Welcome, child. Sit, sit. Join us," the old woman instructed with a gummy smile.

Kahpreench and I took our places on the smooth stone base of the altar beside the elderly couple. The old woman reached out to pat my knee.

"Now, child," she began, her voice warm and friendly, "I trust you know why we are meeting…"

"Bonding," Kahpreench interupted. "I wish to make you my Chweepch."

The old woman shot him a glare. "Yes, bonding. You have been chosen over all the females of our chieftain's preferred. You displayed strength like none we've seen before in the trial."

"Is that what happened last night?" I asked, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice. "The trial?"

"Yes," Kahpreench responded bluntly, irking the old woman again. "So we would make a good pair, you and I. If you agree, you will become the queen of the Irawachch. The first outsider to rule the Blood Isles."

"We need fresh blood," the old man piped up in a husky voice. "Our children our born sick. The Royal Lines must remain strong. We must toss aside our purity in favor of strength."

"We are still pure," the old woman snapped. "The Spirits chose her. They want her as our next queen. The match is holy."

Spirits… that must be the distortions I had been sensing ever since we arrived. Not spirits, though. The Doctor said he knew what they were. Science that looked like magic.

"But first, you must agree to the ceremony," the woman continued, "and then we can prepare."

"Think about it…" Kahpreench urged, "all the world will be yours. The Irawachch are uncontested among the twenty tribes of the Isles. You will want for nothing…"

"Okay," I said simply, taking them all by surprise.

"You… wha…?"

"I'll do it."

"Excellent," Kahpreench leapt to his feet, his eyes glittering with success. "Iraminch, make sure she is prepared. I must go see to the ceremony. It will take place tonight, when the moon is at its highest."

"But… wait…" I called after my 'fiance', "If we are to… bond… we need to talk about… my culture… I need…"

"We will attend to your wants after the ceremony," Kahpreench replied curtly. "Your culture is irrelevant here." And with that, he was gone.

There would be time to convince him to do what I needed. No, I wasn't procrastinating. It would be okay. I was doing what I was supposed to. Everything was going to plan. I could convince him to let the others go later. Perhaps during the ceremony… or after. I shuddered at the idea of a wedding night. There would be plenty of time before that to convince him to let them go. Fear trickled back through my bones.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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The next hour or so was spent bathing in the pools… or being bathed, much to my discomfort. The old woman, Iraminch, and a young female, spent ages scrubbing me with white sand and foul smelling 'soap'. Weird animal fat was spread over my skin and through my hair until it was perfectly sleek and shining. Great moisturizer, if you ignore the fact that it made me smell like lard and death.

Everything had been perfectly silent between the three of us, the sounds of the trickling water of the crystal clear pool and the scrubbing sand had been enough to allow me to push my nerves aside and even get a little bit sleepy. I might have fallen asleep, too, if it weren't for the screams that suddenly cut across the still air.

I very nearly jumped out of my skin. It was easily the worst sound I had ever heard, a thousand times worse that the roars of the Nestene or the cries of the Anthropologists as they were slaughtered on the beach. This was one person screaming.

They screamed.

And screamed.

And screamed.

For what seemed like forever.

Iraminch and the young girl didn't seem in the least bit concerned, only saying 'it's part of the ceremony' and that it 'wasn't anything to worry my head over'. I demanded to go outside and see, but they would only cluck their tongues and say that it was 'bad form' for a Chweepch to be seen in the first part of the ceremony, and that they would call the guards if I attempted to leave.

Iraminch must've felt bad, because she promised me that I could go outside after the bathing was complete.

So I sat.

And I waited.

The worst part was the cheering.

And how much louder it got when the screams stopped.

I wanted to vomit.

I knew that I should've run out anyway. Tried to see what was happening, maybe even stopped it.

But I didn't.

I was too scared.

Too scared of fucking up.

Because that's what I was, wasn't I? A fuck up.

So I just sat there, buck ass nude in a pool of holy water until I was told that I could go outside to investigate, on the condition that I would come straight back to finish preparations.

Iraminch dressed me in a long woolen robe and I went outside, knowing, deep in my gut, that I wasn't going to like what I found.

And I didn't.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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I passed through the village pretty much unnoticed. The few people that did bowed deeply and stood out of the way. I saw the newly built platform before I saw the cage. My heart sunk and the vomit that I had been trying to keep down all day rose to the back of my throat again. The platform was covered in blood. Soaked with it. The once pale boards were now crimson and drying russet brown in the sun. I swallowed hard and pushed past it, not daring to take a second look.

I broke into a run at the sight of the cage, relieved to see a familiar dark shape sitting in the corner.

"Doctor!" I gasped, skidding to a stop just in time to keep myself from colliding with the bars. "What happened?"

He didn't look up, just kept staring straight ahead. The Time Lord looked old, every single one of his nine hundred odd years were traced on his face despite the fact that there were no new wrinkles or lines than there were when I'd seen him a few hours ago.

"Doctor?" I asked again, my heart sinking even further than I thought possible.

After a long moment, he responded.

"Glagig's dead," he said flatly, still not looking up at me. "They killed him."

"Wha… what?"

"Cut 'im to bits while he was still alive. Your future husband had a lot of fun." The Doctor finally turned his head. I blanched at the look on his face. It was the same look he had given me back in the alleyway, back when he thought I had watched the Time War for entertainment. All the pain and anger was there, except this time instead of raging hot, his fury was cold. "It never stops, does it? All the death. It never ends."

Tears started leaking down my face. "I… I'm sorry… I tried to talk to him… and… and ask him to… you know… but… he brushed me off and I didn't try harder because… because I thought…"

"Doesn't matter," the Doctor cut off my desperate attempt at an explanation. "You were right, it was a bad plan." He turned his head back to stare straight ahead, away from me, clearly indicating that he was done talking.

"I… I…" I looked around the cage. Plumkig was still in her spot against the cage wall, condition unchanged. Healrig sat in the corner opposite of the Doctor, head in his hands. "I'm going to fix this. I'm going to get us out of this. I promise."

I spun around and ran back towards the hut, not waiting for an answer. Someone had died because I couldn't do my damn job. Tears streamed down my face, this time out of pain and anger instead of fear. Someone had died, and I was to blame. I killed Glagig. My resolve steeled.

No one else was going to die today.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

"What do you mean you won't go through with the ceremony?" Iraminch screached.

I was standing in the clay mound, my arms crossed and my mouth set in a firm line. Blissfully numb… that's the emotional state I was in.

"I mean it. I won't bond. I won't be your queen." I raised my chin determinedly. "Send Kahpreench. I wish to speak with him in private."

Iraminch stared at me for a moment, mouth gaping in shock at my sudden change in attitude. Then she nodded and scrambled out the mound entrance.

I tapped my foot while I waited. I was so tired… so emotionally exhausted that… I… couldn't feel anything. All I wanted was to go home. Only I didn't have a home anymore. No one would miss me if I failed, because if I failed… well… I had no intention of remaining a Savage's Queen. My hands were shaking, but my mind was made up. No one else was going to die because I was incompetent.

Kahpreench came bustling into the mound, angry and confused.

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded, coming to tower over me. "I recall that just a few hours ago, you agreed to bond eagerly. What has changed?"

"I took time to reflect," I answered smoothly, my mask breaking up a bit under his angry gaze. "You see… in uh… my culture, a couple does not marry if one member is unhappy." Not entirely true, but close enough. "I'm unhappy."

"What does unhappiness have to do with bonding?" He raged. He tangled his fingers in his wiry hair. The streak of red flashed in the sunlight. He sighed and dragged his hands out of his hair and down his face, giving in. "Fine. Why are you unhappy?"

"I can't enjoy a ceremony when my friends sit locked up in a cage like… like.. Uh… common animals," I growled weakly, narrowing my eyes. "Free them. Let them enjoy the festivities."

Kahpreench looked horrified at the suggestion. "Outsiders? Among us?"

"In case you've forgotten, I'm an outsider," I snapped. "If the people are to accept an outsider queen, they should learn to deal with others." I had been rehearsing this conversation in my head for the past ten minutes. It was coming out a bit quick, but at least it seemed to be working.

"Do you realize how difficult it was to keep your friends alive?" Kahpreench snarled. "They all should have taken part of the ceremony's first phase, but I disagreed, so they live."

Nevermind. It wasn't working. Time to change tactics.

I pouted and came forward slowly to rest my palm on his bare chest.

"I understand your troubles," I said silkily, tracing the muscles in his chest slowly. "But the people will listen to a powerful leader." My hand drifted lower to trace his abs. He was built, I'd give him that. At least I had gone nose-blind to the stench. "And it would make me so happy if they were free."

I knew I was on the right track when I felt his abdominals stiffen.

I went a bit lower so that my hand was resting flat on his lower abdomen. I heard him gasp and saw his eyes dilate a bit. I smiled up at him sweetly and even went as far as nibbling at my lower lip.

God, I really had no shame, did I?

"Can you keep them safe please? For me?" I thought about going lower, but I found that my hand was frozen in place.

"Okay," Kahpreench murmured. "I want to make my future queen happy."

"Happiness has its payoffs," said lamely, thinking quickly as to what else I should try to get out of him. "You know what would make me even happier?"

"What?" He grunted.

"On the beach, there was this thing… a blue box…"

"The wooden hut that we could not enter. What about it?"

"Could you have it brought here for the ceremony? It's so pretty."

"I will have it brought here," he said immediately.

I smiled and stepped away. He let out a grunt of protest, but didn't try to make me continue. Instead, he nodded and started back out the mound.

"I will see to your requests," he called over his shoulder. "I will make you happy… and trust that later, you will make me happy as well."

I went over and tried to wash off my hand in one of the pools. There wasn't anything on it, but I felt disgusting. Hopefully, the Doctor would be able to slip inside the TARDIS and get the rest of us out long before Kahpreench tried to call in on the 'happiness' I owed him.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

It must've been sometime around midnight… whenever that was on this planet, and the ceremony had just begun. Well, it wasn't so much of a 'ceremony' as it was a party. A huge bonfire had been built in the center of the village, right in front of the clay mound. Kahpreench and a bunch of the other men were busy brawling around the fire, trying to throw each other into it. Everyone was laughing and dancing, save for me and my 'attendants.'

I made a strange figure, covered, literally, head to toe in thick, white clay. I mean LITERALLY. That stuff was caked on thick in places I didn't know clay could go. You couldn't even see my tattoo anymore, or the bruise that was still on my wrist. If I stood still too long, I was worried that I would harden and become a statue. Weeping Angels, here I come.

Other than the clay, which was just about thick enough to be considered clothing on its own, I had on a sorry excuse for a bikini. Made of dried vines that had been twisted into barely-there clothing, the outfit sort of covered everything that I wanted covered. I would NOT feel comfortable wearing this to the beach, with or without the clay.

I glanced over at the only other figures that weren't joining in on the festivities. The Doctor, Plumkig, and Healrig were sitting a ways away, just inside the shadow the mound was casting. They were under armed guard, but the Irawachch were becoming increasingly more interested in the party than they were about their charges. Not to mention that there was some kind of drink being passed around. I hadn't tried it, but I was certain that it was some kind of alcohol.

I knew it was alcohol because Kahpreench was completely wasted. The more he drank, the more raucous he became, and the more nervous I got.

I glanced at the Doctor again. He was staring across the clearing at the TARDIS, which was nestled in the shadows between a hut and the recently constructed platform. He was waiting, watching. I knew he wouldn't try to make a move until he was certain he would go unnoticed, but I really wished he would hurry up. My new 'husband' would be wanting a 'wedding night' before long.

The Doctor cast a glance in my direction and caught me staring. I must've looked frightened, because he gave me a small grin and mouthed 'nice outfit'.

I tried a smile back, which hard due to the solid quarter inch of clay on my face.

The smile was wiped away when a dark shadow loomed over me, blocking the light from the fire. Kahpreench grinned maliciously and dropped something at my feet. It landed with a sickening thud.

"For you, my Chweepch."

I had to bite back a scream. The object he had dropped was large, round, and cotton candy pink. Blood streaked down the cheeks, still oozing from the empty eye sockets and tongueless mouth. Glagigs head wobbled a bit on the uneven ground before settling, dirt sticking on the wet spots.

It was so hard not to cry out. Kahpreench wandered off chuckling while I glanced back over at the Doctor. It was hard to tell in the faint light, but I was sure he had gone extremely pale.

"It's okay," he mouthed.

I screwed my eyes shut, doing everything I could not to look at the severed head. I wouldn't open them again until after I had instructed one of the attendants to get rid of the offending object and I was sure that it was well out of sight.

When I opened my eyes again, the Doctor had moved. A quick glance told me that he had left his seat by Healrig, who seemed to be attempting to cover for the missing Time Lord by taking up as much space as possible. It seemed to be working, because I was the only one that noticed the dark figure creeping around the edges of the light to the other side of the gathering. He reached the box and groped around in his jacket for the key.

He shut the door and I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

Everything was so loud that no one even noticed the noise the TARDIS made when it dematerialised. Only a couple noticed when it rematerialized on top of Plumkig and Healrig, but their cries of shock were drowned out in the general chaos.

Everyone noticed when the machine started settling around me though. I could hear their shouts and see them running about in panic as the familiar console room edged into existence around me.

The room solidified and I inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of metal and singed wires.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

I was sitting crossed legged on the TARDIS floor, dizzy and lightheaded. I leaned forward and buried my head in my hands, the clay on my fingers squishing unpleasantly into that on my face.

Footsteps vibrated the metal grating. The Doctor was talking to Healrig, probably explaining the ship to the aliens and promising to take them home. I couldn't really hear them, though. It was like I was listening to them from underwater. I didn't want to hear them. I just wanted to met into the floor. The numbness I had forced myself into was wearing off, leaving me feeling raw and exposed.

"Buff?"

The pressure of the Doctor's hand on my shoulder, squishing into the clay, startled me back to my senses.

I whipped my head over to look up at him. He was standing over me, his expression soft and… and worried. "You alright?"

I immediately sprung to my feet. "Yeah of course." My voice was strangely high pitched. "Why wouldn't I be?"

The Time Lord didn't answer the question, just kept gazing at me with that same concerned look. I wanted him to stop. Tears were already threatening to spill. That expression was only making it worse.

"I'm taking Healrig and Plumkig back home," he said slowly. "Want to come out and see?"

Go outside? _Go outside?_ I was never going outside again. Outside was where people cut off heads and gouged out eyes. Outside was where people stuck others in cages and jammed heads on spears. I was never leaving the TARDIS again. Maybe...if I asked nicely… the Doctor would take me back to my apartment in London. It was safe there. I wanted to be safe. I … I wanted…

I wanted to go home.

Despair washed over me. I couldn't go home. Not ever. I wouldn't sleep in my own bed again or play with my cats. I would never curl up on the couch and watch movies with my family ever again… or race my brothers through the woods to play in the creek. I wouldn't listen to my grandparents' stories or exchange presents on Christmas Eve. It was all gone. And I was stuck here. I would never be safe like that again.

"No… no…" I squeaked hurriedly. Tears were starting to leak out onto the clay. I stared at the ground, hoping the Doctor wouldn't notice. "I'm… umm… going to chisel myself out before I dry…"

With that said, I made an escape, pushing past the concerned alien toward the corridor I knew would lead to my room.

"Okay," the Doctor agreed. I knew that he was watching me leave. "Sure you don't need any help?"

"Nope. I'm good." I tried hard to sound cheerful but failed miserably.

"Course. And Buff…"

I think he said something else, but I was already speed walking down the hall. Once I knew I was out of sight, I broke into a sprint. I didn't think about where I was going, but I somehow found myself in the musty hallway of bedrooms, leaving a tail of white footprints in my wake.

Just in time, too. No sooner than I had slammed my door closed, I collapsed in the floor in front of the door, and started to sob.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	7. Meanwhile ~ Concerning Buffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief Doctor POV

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_**~0~0~0~  
** _

_**Chapter Seven: Meanwhile - Concerning Buffy  
** _

_**~0~0~0~  
.** _

The Doctor closed the TARDIS door and paced around the console. He pressed a lever and the TARDIS trembled, but only for a moment. When the machine went still again, the Doctor grabbed the monitor and dragged it over to him so he could peer at the screen through narrowed eyes.

He'd dropped off Healrig and Plumkig off at the IAT heaquarters without any trouble. He'd even gotten the right spot in the timeline, allowing the two sole survivors of the expedition to return home just before a search party was sent. No one else at IAT would die at the hands of the natives.

Healrig had been grateful, shaking the Time Lord's hand and swearing to update the IAT security systems that had caused the catastrophic failure. He also swore to look after Plumkig, who was quickly taken to a psychiatric facility.

Now that two of his charges had been taken care of, the Doctor took on the issue of his third.

He sighed as he considered the readings on the screen. There was nothing simple about Buffy. Or her situation. Or what she meant for the rest of the universe. All in all, it could turn out to be very, very bad. Situations fluttered through his head, bad outcome after bad outcome, followed by catastrophe; and there was so little he could do to stop it.

The Doctor grit his teeth in determination. He wasn't going to let any of them happen.

He took a last, long look at the light blue diagram of the universe before switching the screen over to a black one with a bright red line and green numbers that relayed the heart rate and body temperature of the TARDIS's other passenger.

Her heart rate was slow, suggesting she was asleep.

_That's good news, at least,_ the Doctor thought. _She's had a rough few days._

Then he frowned. Her body temperature was a smidge too low. Not enough to cause alarm, but enough for him to worry. What if she'd gotten sick? Humans didn't handle diseases well. A simple virus could have them bedridden for weeks. What if he'd been wrong about the soup he'd given her in the cage? What if she'd gotten food poisoning or parasites?

He shook his head and tapped the side of the screen thoughtfully. None of her other vitals suggested anything wrong, she was probably just cold.

_I should probably check on her_.

A wave of pity washed over him. It had been a rough few days, hadden't it? They'd watched people be slaughtered mercilessly. The Doctor was no stranger to death, but seeing Glagig ripped to shreds had been enough to leave him trembling. Not to mention that he had nearly vomited when the Chieftain had dropped the dead man's head at Buffy's feet. The poor girl looked like she was going to pass out.

The Doctor pushed the monitor away from him and strode purposefully down the corridor towards the hall of bedrooms. He hadn't been there in a long time, not having had any companions to use it. His own bedroom had always been kept separate so as to dissuade nosy passengers from poking into his personal things.

_Darker than I remember,_ he mused as he rounded the corner that led to the bedrooms. He paused to survey the condition of the once-regal passage. _Should probably work on the maintenance circuits. Probably stuck in 'Necessity Mode' from the War._

The Doctor shuddered at the thought, a chill running down his spine. Then he shook his head and pushed forward to the door labeled 'Buffy' in loopy gold print.

He paused, his hand resting on the handle. She probably wouldn't appreciate him coming in her room without an invitation, humans were very particular about personal space. The Doctor raised his hand and knocked.

No answer.

_She probably_ IS _asleep._

He knocked again, this time calling her name softly. "Buffy?"

Still no answer.

_Should probably just leave,_ he reasoned. _She's not exactly going anywhere, is she? I can talk to her when she wakes up._

He stood there for a few more moments, debating. The mental image of Buffy in the console room floated through his head. Even though she had been caked in white clay, he had recognized the look on her face. It was the same expression he had seen a thousand times on the faces of young soldiers that had just survived a firefight; terrified and close to breaking, if they hadn't already. The Doctor had noticed his young companion's tears and how terrified she'd been at the very _suggestion_ of going back outside.

That was bad. Very bad. He'd been careless; taken a kid to a place he'd known was dangerous. Buffy was new to all of this; chucking her straight into a gorey mess was enough to scare anyone away, culture shock, and all that.

The Doctor turned the handle and edged inside, his mind made up.

"Buffy?" He whispered softly as he edged into the large, cool room. It was dark, the only light coming from the holographic stars overhead and a lamp that had been left on in the corner, directly across from the couch and beside the tv. "Buffy?"

He peered over at the bed inquisitively, surprised to not see her in it. His quick eyes scoured the room for a moment before spotting her in the sitting room area. She was curled up in the giant bean bag chair beside the couch, plainly fast asleep.

The Doctor edged over, careful not to wake her. She needed all the sleep she could get. He knelt down in front of the chair cautiously.

She was curled up into the fetal position, hands tightly twisted into her damp red hair like she was trying to cover her ears. Streaks of chalky white clay still decorated her arms and matted strands of her hair together despite what had clearly been her best efforts to get it out. She had changed from the extremely revealing outfit the Natives had given her and into a loose fitting t-shirt and pajama pants with adorable little penguins on them..

A soft smile twitched onto the Doctors face. _Ha. Penguin pajamas._

The smile disappeared as he took in the rest of her features. Her face around her eyes were red and puffy from crying, contrasting sharply with how pale and drawn the rest of her face was. Alien food or not, she looked sick. Sick and sad.

The Doctor briefly considered what could be making her ill. He was fairly sure that the food had been safe… but what had she eaten before that? He felt a pang of worry. They had been in the alien village for two days, and the only thing he knew for sure that she'd eaten was that one measly bowl of soup, and he hadn't the faintest clue of what her last meal before that had been. He'd been so caught up in trying to see if she was sensitive to interdimensional distortions that it hadn't even crossed his mind.

"I'll do better next time, Buff, I promise," he murmured to the sleeping woman, reaching out to press his fingertips to her temple. "Just good dreams tonight, alright?"

He pulled his fingers away, leaving her with a pleasant afternoon in the purple grass fields on the moon of Jaboon running through her head; one of his own memories from lifetimes ago. Some of the tension melted from Buffy's shoulders as she settled into a much more restful sleep.

The Doctor retrieved the soft grey blanket that lay folded up on the couch and draped it over his sleeping companion, tucking her in securely before making for the door. Tomorrow he would have to make sure she took in enough nutrients to make up for the last few days, she was thin enough as it was.

He paused thoughtfully in the doorway, looking back at Buffy's sleeping form. Somewhere safe, too. He knew he needed to make up for a terrible first trip, she was already on the verge of demanding that he take her back to London. Obviously he would if she asked, but the thought made his stomach sink.

She needed to stay close to him. Whatever she was, he needed to keep an eye on her. Now that Buffy had met him, had been exposed to the Time Vortex, she was in more danger than ever.

The Doctor made a silent vow to keep Buffy safe, and closed the door softly, leaving her to wander the fields of purple grass without a care in the world.

**~0~0~0~**

**.**


	8. Clovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of PTSD

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_**~0~0~0~  
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_**Chapter Eight: Clovers** _

_**~0~0~0~  
.** _

I was stiff. First thought of the day. Stiff.

Second thought: Where the fuck am I?

I sat up slowly and looked around. A glorious early morning sky stretched overhead. Oh… I was in my room on the TARDIS. I wasn't in bed though, which was probably why I had been so confused.

A soft grey blanket, disturbed by my movements, slid off my shoulders and onto the floor. Where had that come from? It hadn't been in the oversized bean bag chair I had woken up in, and I didn't remember getting it from the couch.

I sighed and stretched before reaching down to retrieve the blanket so I could wrap it back around myself as I debated on whether or not to actually get up today. I was exhausted despite having slept well… though I suppose crying does that to you.

Heat radiated from my cheeks. Crying myself to sleep like a little kid. At least there was no one around to notice.

My back popped several times when I stretched again. Why had I fallen asleep in the chair instead of my bed? A quick examination of my arm answered that question. I had managed to get a vast quantity of the clay off last night, but I had been too tired and… let's say, 'emotionally compromised' to finish the job. So I had collapsed into the chair so I didn't get the then-still wet clay on the bed.

I needed another shower. There were still clumps of clay matting my hair together and it looked as if kids had been doodling on my arms with white chalk. The blanket remained wrapped around my shoulders as I struggled to stand up and made my way into the bathroom. Hopefully another shower would be enough to keep me from acting like a zombie.

The bathroom was huge, like one of the fancy modern ones you'd expect to find in a billionaire's mansion. A mirror made up the entirety of one of the walls, reflecting the bright lights and marble floors of the rest of the bathroom. Off to the side of the room was the bathtub and shower.

The walk-in shower was fascinating in itself. Approximately fifteen feet long and eight feet wide, the shower was basically like standing in warm rain with adjustable pressure, like, the entire shower ceiling rained down water. I hadn't discovered all the settings yet, but I knew that there was a panel that you could click on to adjust which parts of the ceiling let out water.

For now, I adjusted it so that only the small strip of ceiling nearest to the panel released water. I picked a random scent (out of 4,368 available fragrances) from the automated dispenser (which was also controlled by the Handy-Dandy panel) and started scrubbing at the white streaks. I did the same with my hair, except with shampoo and conditioner. I love the TARDIS.

I scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin was red and raw. The clay I was trying to get off was long gone, but I couldn't stop scrubbing. My flesh crawled and itched like I didn't quite fit in it. I just felt… so… _dirty._ I mean… _disgusting._ It was like my skin was made out of a gas station toilet seat, or maybe a dirty floor covered in used tampons and dog hair… or like it was made out of a severed head, dripping flesh from a sun bleached skull and writhing in maggots.

No. Stop it.

I scrubbed harder.

Stop thinking about it.

Glagig's head being dropped on the ground with a wet splat.

_Stop._

Dry, crusty lips oozing blood like saliva.

_Enough._

Eyeless sockets staring out at me with an expression that would've been terrified if the face hadn't been mutilated beyond recognition. I had only known it was Glagig because of the candy pink skin.

"Stop!" I spat out loud, hoping my brain would get the memo if I vocalized the command instead of thinking it.

It sort of worked. I hurriedly turned off the water and snatched up one of the fluffy white towels that the TARDIS provided. I toweled off quickly, trying to focus on what I was going to wear today and the lovely dream I had last night to keep myself distracted.

I blanked out on the clothes and refocused on the dream. It was nice, a million times nicer than I had expected when I went to sleep last night, since I had expected nightmares from the days before. Instead, I had found myself in a beautiful field full of tall lilac colored grass; the surface of a bright orange planet hanging gloriously in the navy blue sky.

I smiled to myself, wondering if there actually was a place like that. Maybe I could ask the Doctor and see if he'd take me there.

When I padded out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel I noticed the panel beside the doorway. There were a lot of things in my in-TARDIS apartment that I hadn't explored yet, seeing as I had only slept in it twice and had been fairly preoccupied my more important things. But now this previously inconspicuous panel came to my attention because it was blinking frantically.

I wandered over to it, stared at the blinking green light, chewed at my thumbnail, and gave the screen a tap.

The screen came to life reading:

**[One New Message]**

Message? From who? What, some kind of in-TARDIS, home phone type thing? I clicked the icon and the message opened.

**_Go out for breakfast? Meet in console room whenever you're ready._ **

**_Dress for Spring weather._ **

**_~ Doctor_ **

I chewed my lip thoughtfully. Should I respond? Nah, he just said to meet. Evidently he had already picked out a place to start the day. Spring weather… but what kind of Spring weather? Like, London spring, Georgia spring, or Egypt spring? Because they were all very different springs. And like… nice spring? Or casual spring? Because those were very different too.

I sighed and shook my head. Overthinking again.

He probably meant mild weather. If he'd meant hot, he would've said 'hot', just as he would've said 'cold' if he meant cold. Spring just meant somewhere in between.

And niceness? If it was formal or in a certain time period, he probably would've said. If he felt like he needed to mention the weather, it was probably because we'd be outside.

So… nice casual?

I eventually settled on a loose fitting tank top under a short sleeved cardigan, and, after some debating, a pair of black leggings with black converse. I also took a moment to slip on a wrap bracelet around my wrist to cover up the dark bruise that was still there from my first encounter with the Time Lord.

I knew that the Doctor still felt pretty shitty about it, and I hoped we could actually have a kind of fresh start.

There. Nice casual. Close enough, at least.

If I needed to change, I could probably come back and change.

I wonder if he'd let me raid the wardrobe. Probably. I didn't even know where it was yet.

Refocus. God knows how long he's already been waiting.

I spent a few moments combing through my hair, picked out a few pieces of clay that I missed, and set off towards the console room.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The Doctor was waiting for me, as promised. I half expected him to make another snide comment about my sleeping habits, but he only looked up at me through a pair of strange goggles that were more typical of his later regenerations, and smiled.

"Hello, Buff," he greeted cheerfully, sliding the goggles up onto his forehead. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, thanks." I answered shyly, coming around to stand beside him. "What's up?"

"Rewiring the TARDIS maintenance circuits." He finished tying two copper wires together and straightened up, taking off the goggles and hanging them on the edge of the monitor. "Some subsystems shorted out and weren't important enough to worry about during…" He cut himself off, a shadow falling across his face. "I hadn't found a reason to fix 'em until now."

I nodded understandingly, pretending not to notice how pained he looked. "I get 'cha. I almost screwed myself over in Spanish because I kept forgetting about worksheets. My English teacher was scarier."

"So you'd do English first," he finished, coming out of whatever place his mind had wandered to. "Anyway… breakfast? I have a whole day planned out."

I smiled despite the anxious tingle that flashed through my chest. "Where are we going?"

Hopefully… _hopefully_ … it wouldn't turn out like our last outing, seeing as the Doctor had planned this one. Did that mean the trip to the violent native island was unplanned? Don't think we landed there by accident…

"Somewhere fantastic," he promised, back to his overly cheerful self. The Doctor's grin was almost maniacal as he set the TARDIS into motion while I hung on for dear life.

It was a fairly short trip. Within seconds the shaking stopped and everything went quiet. Much to my surprise, the Time Lord didn't immediately make for the door.

The Doctor peered at me from around the glass of the center of the console, a much calmer smile playing around his lips.

He nodded towards the doors. "Wanna take a look?"

I glanced at the doors nervously. Me first? Really not sure how I felt about that. "Where are we?"

He nodded to the door again, looking amused. "What're you askin' me for? Door's just there."

I edged towards the door, doing my best to not look terrified. Last time I had set foot outside the TARDIS I had been captured by violent aliens. Before that, we were attacked by sentient plastic. There were a ton of episodes where the TARDIS didn't land where it was supposed to. Did I really have to go? Couldn't I just stay on board?

A glance back told me that the Doctor had ambled up behind me, smiling encouragingly.

I turned back to the door. Well, if he was sure.

The door creaked open without hindrance. For a moment, alI could do was stand in the doorway and gaze out at the breathtaking scene in front of me.

The TARDIS had landed in what appeared to be a large, grassy park that was sided by a body of water. Up ahead was, to my astonishment, the Golden Gate Bridge. Although San Francisco on a sunny spring day was gorgeous enough on its own, what really had me floored was the sheer number of flying vehicles that swarmed around the city like birds. I had seen pictures of San Francisco before, but it had clearly changed a lot between the early twenty first century and whenever we were now; now skyscrapers reached up impossibly high like fingers reaching up to grab at the clouds on either side of the startlingly red bridge.

The huge stretch of grass, which was even bigger than I originally thought, was teeming with life; humans and aliens alike. Posters and boothes and balloons added even more color to the bright spring day while my other senses were assaulted by music, chatter, and a variety of smells that I couldn't even begin to identify.

I was dimly aware of the Doctor pushing past me to lean against the outside of the TARDIS.

"Buffy Reid, welcome to the 24th century."

I turned to look up at him and he laughed at my expression.

"This is the San Francisco Sidereal Fair," he elaborated. "It's held every year for the great and good of all the planets Earth is currently involved with to get together and play games, share cultures, foods, and technology. Come on, I've already reserved us a place."

The Doctor gave me a nudge to shake me out of my stupor and I grabbed onto his arm in a kind of little-kid-reflex. I didn't have to look up to know that he was grinning in amusement as he led the way to the entrance, but honestly I was too overstimulated to care.

I watched as the Doctor flashed his psychic paper at the human dressed in an obnoxious shade of yellow before guiding me past the guarded entrance and into the fair itself.

My eyes flickered everywhere rapidly, trying to look everywhere at once as strange species passed; some had trunks like elephants, some had huge eyes, some had feathers, others had scales and were every color of the rainbow.

The Doctor sidestepped a small wheeled robot that was carrying a large red box and continued on into a break in the makeshift buildings and booths, making space for a sea of what appeared to be picnic blankets and sun umbrellas.

More of the wheeled robots with the red boxes scurried by, darting on the grass between the islands of blankets. As we passed through the the first few rows of mats it became clear that the bots were delivering boxes of neatly packed food to the people lounging back and snacking in the morning sun.

"Don't stare," the Doctor chided, seeing that my line of sight had hovered on a checkerboard colored woman and her two children longer than what was usually deemed socially acceptable.

"Sorry," I muttered awkwardly, tearing my gaze away from the family.

"Here we are," the Doctor said brightly. He shook me off of his arm and settled down on a blue, rubbery mat.

I slid down onto my knees beside him, still gazing around in wonder. "You said 24th century?"

"Yep!" The Doctor snatched up an object that resembled an IPad that had been placed neatly in the center of the mat and began scrolling through whatever was on the screen.

"How many different species are here?" I settled down off of my knees and into a sitting position. "And what's that?" I pointed to the IPad thing he was holding.

"The menu." He held out the object for me to see the screen displaying an extremely detailed list of a vast variety of food. "An' about 200, give or take. Right now the Earth is diplomatically involved with 124 different planets, if my history's right, which it is. Diplomatic matters, tradin', and whatnot. There's even talk of an alliance. A Federation of sorts."

"Like Star Trek?" I piped up, fascinated. "United Federation of Planets and Star Fleet?"

The Doctor grinned. "Basically, yeah. Star Trek fan, are ya?"

"Always." I grinned shyly and raised my hand in the Vulcan Salute, very nearly squirming around in glee when the Doctor did it back.

"Nice to see that some things stay the same across the universes," he concluded cheerfully, lowering his hand and returning his attention to the menu IPad. "Let's see, what for breakfast? Here you have your basic human stuff…"

After a few minutes of pouring over the menu, I decided to order some coffee and a bagel, which was my go-to breakfast. The Doctor wasn't having it though, pushing me to order some bacon, eggs, and some weird kind of alien pancake that was neon pink with blue spots. He on the other hand, ordered three sausage and bacon sandwiches and, in a show of solidarity, also ordered the pink pancakes and a funny sort of fizzy milkshake.

The Doctor dropped the menu pad back onto the mat carelessly and leaned back on his hands with his eyes closed, enjoying the sun.

I stretched my legs out in front of me, trying to relieve some of the remaining ache from my awkward sleeping position the night before. My eyes raised to the multitude of flying vehicles swarming between the buildings across the water.

Millions of questions were streaming through my head but I couldn't rest on one long enough to ask it out loud. Because HOLY CRAP. Unlike the beach on the other planet, I actually had a moment to sit and digest my surroundings without fear of death.

This was the TWENTY FOURTH CENTURY. It really was like Star Trek; Next Generation, to be precise. Not to mention that Starfleet Academy was actually supposed to be in San Francisco, probably about where we were sitting now.

I finally settled on a question and started to open my mouth to ask it, but the Doctor beat me to it.

"Back in the alley, you said four thousand miles away," the Doctor spoke up, opening his eyes and turning his head slightly to face me. "Where are you from?"

"Georgia," I answered, pushing my own questions to the side for a moment. "Like, the state, not the country."

He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "You don't sound like a southerner."

"Well, I _did_ , just not anymore." I twirled my hair around a finger absently. "I just sort of woke up with it." I frowned. "I'm not sure I like sounding British."

"What's wrong with British?" He asked, looking amused.

"I mean, nothing. It's just… I miss my southern drawl."

"Can you not still do it? It's just an accent."

"Yeah. I still know what it sounds like. It's just not, you know, natural anymore," I admitted wistfully. There had been a time when I hated my accent, hated how people would automatically assume I wasn't as smart as I actually was because of it. But now that it was gone, I missed it.

The Doctor smiled softly. "Have you got family?"

"Yeah, uh… two brothers and our parents." The wistfulness I'd felt at my accent change hardened into a pang of grief. I glanced away quickly, trying to force it back down. This really was NOT the time for being sad. I was on FUTURE EARTH for God's sake.

"I'm sorry."

I looked back up to see a somber expression on the Doctor's face. Evidently he had caught on to how upsetting it was to think about my family. Of course he would. He was the Doctor. He knew what it was like to lose family.

I tried to pull off a nonchalant shrug. "Is what it is. And anyway, it's not like it's your fault."

"Sure about that?" He asked carefully.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, grief forgotten. "What do you mean?"

"Not sure. But you weren't brought here by accident. Someone reached across the universes and specifically picked out someone that had knowledge of me and topped it off by placing you in London. Right in the best spot for you to find me. So it seems like whatever's goin' on, I'm right in the middle of it."

"Okay…" I said slowly, chewing on what he'd just said. It did make sense for it to have something to do with him. How could it not? But why? And why me, specifically? I wasn't anyone particularly special. "But why would someone do that? Like…" I popped my fingers absently. "They… they obviously wanted me to find you, but why? Doesn't seem like something you do for shits and giggles."

The Doctor reached into his jacket and pulled out the medallion. I watched the gold disk glitter in the sunlight, having completely forgotten about it.

He twirled the chain around his fingers thoughtfully. "I think I know what the point is… or at least part of it. This…" He held the medallion out so I could see it better. "...is an Extradimensional Manipulator. Time Lord technology. Lets the user literally grasp onto the fabric of reality like a… a handle. Shift through the dimensions, so to speak."

I blinked at him in confusion, only half understanding. "Alright… like… between universes? Cause maybe that would have something to do with..."

"No," he said bluntly. "It's not used for travelling between universes. It's more like…" He glanced around and picked the menu pad back up. The Doctor held the pad parallel to the mat on we were sitting on. "Alright, pretend that the menu is us, our universe. And then the mat…" He patted the mat insistently. "Is another universe. And in between them…" He waved his hand in the empty space between the two flat objects. "...is the void. Which is literally nothing, and I mean literally. No light. No sound. No space. No time. Nothing. Still with me?"

I nodded solemnly. He had, or would, explain the void when dealing with Pete's Universe.

"So if we're here…" He rested a finger on the top of the menu IPad. "An' this is our version of reality. Our universe. All the light, matter, and time that we experience. There's a point where our universe meets the void an' the dimensions cease to exist. Except it's not a hard point… or line… barrier where the universe just stops all at once. It just sort of fades out. The Manipulator lets you step into that faded out place near the edge."

I watched as he slowly traced his finger to the edge of the pad. What, like Stranger Things?

"So like…" I said slowly, not wanting to sound too stupid. "Like the Upside Down?" Smooth Buffy, real smooth.

The Doctor stopped tracing the outline of the menu, perplexed. "Upside down?"

Heat radiated from my cheeks. "It's a... thing from a… a show. Like, you know how they say the 'flea on a tightrope' thing…" I trailed off, feeling ridiculous. Why couldn't I just keep my fat mouth shut?

Strangely enough, the Doctor seemed to be toying with the statement, more thoughtful than condescending. "Not quite, but not too far off, either. If it helps, don't think 'upside down'. Think 'slightly to the side', and you've almost got it. "

That sort of made sense, I guess. I had a feeling that he could explain it all day and I would still be confused, so I decided to just accept it and move on.

"Okay, so why would Mirror Girl give this… uh… handle… to me? Did she just want me to give to to you?"

"Don't think so. I can't use it, you see. Going a 'little to the side' is impossible for most creatures. Just not built to exist there. Quite literally just come apart at the atomic level. Meanin'..." The Doctor held out the medallion. It dangled in front of my eyes, the center stone sparkling in the sunlight. "It must be yours."

I reached out and took it carefully from him. After a second of staring at the shiny surface, I realized what he said.

"Wait, what?" I sputtered. Mine? The fuck does that mean? "How can it be mine?"

"You're the one that's supposed to use it," he explained patiently, his gaze sharp and intense.

"Are you sure?" I asked skeptically. He must be mistaken.

"Yeah." The Doctor nodded solemnly. "That's what I was checking, back on Irrodious Prime. The walls of the universe are thin there. I wanted to see if you'd respond to it."

A chill crept down my spine. "Those things that I saw… the… the thingies you couldn't see, back in the cage…"

"Other extra dimensional creatures, probably. Harmless to stuff in this dimension. They tend to swarm there because the walls are thin, prone to microscopic tears. " Something flashed across his face. Was it worry? Regret? Damn, he was hard to read. "I was careless, though, goin' there. I'm sorry."

"Okay, but…" I tapped my finger against the medallion. "That doesn't explain why I'm here or why they'd give it to me. What am I even supposed to _do_ with it? How does it even work?"

The Doctor shook his head and sighed. "It's not important right now. We can discuss it later. Because tell you what…" He clapped his hands together eagerly. "It's time for breakfast!"

I turned to see that one of the wheeled robots had rolled up behind me bearing a large red box. It beeped happily as I lifted the box off of it with some difficulty. The Doctor leaned over to help sit it between us on the mat, immediately opening it and starting to go through its contents while I watched the robot roll away.

'"But, Doctor…" I complained, not ready to simply drop the conversation.

"Oh, get on," the Doctor huffed, passing me a thermos filled with coffee. "We're at what'll be one of the most popular attractions in this side of the galaxy, there's not a cloud in the sky, and we've got all day to enjoy it. And besides…" He held out a plastic container with the weird alien pancakes. "I want you to test these out first."

I took the container from him, opened it, and sniffed the contents skeptically with he divvied out the rest of the food.

"Why did I agree to get this, again?" I asked, nudging the top pancake with a plastic fork.

"Because what's the point of travellin' if you don't try new foods," he stated as if it were obvious. "Go on, I swear it's good."

"Then what 'new thing' are you trying?" I retorted as I cut off a small bite with my fork.

My stomach rumbled as the smell of bacon wafted up from the other containers. I hadn't realized how hungry I was. When was the last time I ate? Oh well. I took a last look at the pancake and popped it in my mouth.

"I got the shake, didn't I?" He protested, holding up the drink. "What do you think?"

I furrowed my brow at the flavors. "Is it… banana and… raspberry?"

The Doctor beamed. "Sort of. It tastes like bananas and raspberries but it's actually made from a plant found on a planet in the…"

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The Doctor continued his explanation of the plant that my pancakes were made out of for the majority of the meal. I tried to listen as best I could, but he was excited and continued to mumble animatedly through very large bites of his own food.

If I didn't know any better I would think that he was unaccustomed to but completely thrilled at having someone to explain this stuff to.

But I did know better, so I knew that was _exactly_ what was happening.

I still wanted to ask him about the war; how long had it been since it ended, what happened to him since then, and most importantly, how he was holding up. He seemed okay now, but from what I'd seen so far, I was pretty sure he was overcompensating and more fragile than he was letting on.

I watched him as he made weird faces at the fizzy milkshake that apparently tasted like beef.

It probably wasn't my business, but he was my only friend at the moment. I had already cared about him before I came into this universe, but now he was a thousand times more important.

As soon as we finished eating (the Doctor blatantly refused to leave the mat until I finished all of the bacon and eggs) we set off to explore.

I clung to the Doctor's arm as a giant man with three eyes and coarse red hair covering his entire body lumbered past, almost stepping on me. I hated being so short. I hadn't measured myself since my new body, but I couldn't be more than 5'1".

My tall companion only laughed and guided me through the crowd to examine some of the booths.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

There was a little bit of everything at the fair. Bizarre alien games, culture exhibits with food and clothes, dancers with six legs, two-throated singers, contests, souvenirs, and religious figures handing out pamphlets.

Everything passed in a sort of blur of color and sounds. Despite being completely overwhelmed, I was having the time of my life. The Doctor's mouth worked nonstop, either explaining whatever we were seeing to me or busy laughing and chatting with vendors and other guests.

I stayed pretty quiet most of the time, not really having anything to say, entirely content with watching and listening. That was one of the good things about travelling with the Doctor that I hadn't really thought of before; the Time Lord was more than happy to fill the silence if his companion wasn't in a chatty mood, but no matter how talkative he was, he could easily shut up and listen if they had something to say.

I was a naturally pretty quiet person, so it was nice to not be expected to be a great conversationalist.

I reached up with my free hand to comb my fingers through my hair as we skirted the outside of the center clearing, toying with the baby hairs on the underside, which were curling and damp with sweat.

My hand came into contact with something smooth and cold. It was the chain from the medallion. I had hung it around my neck and tucked it into my shirt when our food came, definitely not wanting to lose it now that I knew how important it was.

A nervous prickle edged up my spine at the thought of the thing. Had I really been carrying around something as complicated as a piece of Time Lord technology for over a year? What if I had lost it? Then where would we be?

"How does the medallion thing even work?" I asked, craning my neck to look up at the Doctor. "It's just a disk, not complex like the TARDIS."

The Doctor let out an exasperated sigh. "If I'd known that was all you were going to witter on about all day I wouldn't have brought it up," he complained. "Talk about something else."

I groaned internally. He was determined to kill me with suspense, wasn't he? Fine, what else? My eyes drifted back up at the flying vehicles going about their normal transit in the distance.

"Fine," I sighed dramatically. "Then what about the flying car things? Are they still using combustion engines or have they moved on to something else?"

The Doctor brightened up considerably at the question. "Fantastic! Some of them are combustion engines, but they don't use fossil fuels like they did in your time. Most of them will run on a sort of proton-electron engine." He was about to continue, but another question popped into my head.

"How do they hover?"

"Think along the lines of a helicopter. Except replace the blades with charged ions."

I cut him off again. "What do they use for currency here?"

"Credits. At the moment. They've pretty much ditched material money and use a global unit system. Before the next turn of the century every planet in this system will use it."

"What, like coin?"

The Doctor chuckled, steering me towards another booth that had caught his eye. "I like your questions, Buffy. Most people don't think about the inner workings…"

He trailed off as we got closer to the booth. The display was larger than some of the others we had been to, and a bit more crowded. At least twenty people had gathered to admire the accumulation of shining metals and what appeared to be souvenirs taken from battlefields.

The sign positioned at the front announced in proud red letters:

_**Earth Military Assault Command Representative** _

_**General Maynard M. Mitchell** _

_**Commander - Intelligence Officer - Recruiter** _

_**Veteran of Isilanic, Battle of Yarnisit, Commiyiatis Registritrac, and The Stitigrec Isolica Extraictition** _

_**Genuine Military Memorabilia** _

_**War Stories - Recruitment - Inquiry - Donate** _

"He sounds full of himself," I muttered, glancing between the shoulders of the people in front of me to see an older man in full military uniform with a rather impressive mustache chatting with some of the people loitering around his booth.

"I'll bet," the Doctor growled.

I glanced up at him in surprise at the sudden change in tone. A stormy look had crossed over his face, darkening his usually goofy features.

"You know him?" I inquired nervously.

"Unfortunately," he continued in the same dangerous tones. "Earth considers him a war hero, but to everyone else he's as good as a symbol of death. Battle of Yarnisit? On other worlds it's known as the Yarnisit Massacre. Take a look at his audience. All human 'cause no one else would dare have anything do with him."

"Dang," I breathed, feeling slightly unsettled by both the Doctor's tone and the implications of his statement. "If he's so bad, what's he doing at a multiplanet fair thing?"

"Recruiting, mostly. Earth's expanding, buildin' up for what'll be the first Great and bountiful Human Empire. But to do that, you need soldiers an' military an' scientists and whatnot to hold and take territory. Most of it's peaceful, just normal exploration. Like Star Trek. Though I've reasons to believe General Mitchell over there has a different perspective, except Earth is one of the most powerful influences around. No one wants to kick up a fuss."

"Don't wanna piss off the wrong people," I added dryly. "Three hundred years. Doesn't change that much, I guess".

"Stupid bloody apes," he hissed venomously. Then I glimpsed him in my peripheral, casting me a quick glance. "No offense."

"I'm from 2018 America, remember?" I snorted. "None taken. I agree."

I felt a small vibration from him that I assumed to be a chuckle. Then I realised I was still clinging to his arm like a little kid, not that he seemed to mind. In fact, I was pretty sure he enjoyed the contact.

The Doctor gave my arm a gentle squeeze. "Come on, let's see what all the fuss is about."

He steered us deeper into the General's audience and I had to bite my tongue to keep from protesting. This was a bad idea. I had the distinct impression that the Doctor was looking for an argument, whether he realised it or not.

"... Every first place award, certificate, and medal they have to offer at this mediocre assembly," General Mitchell was saying, mustache ruffling as he spoke. "That's twenty per year since I started working here, recruitment and such. I can't say it fills the void, so to speak, left behind by my career. But that's retirement, I suppose. Leave the fighting to younger men and women."

"Impressive." The Doctor's voice cut through the general chatter like a hot knife through butter, even without raising his voice. A chill went down my spine at his tone. Seemingly pleasant, like the calm before a thunderstorm. You know, I'd never understood that reference before now. "All of them? Quite an achievement."

"Almost all," General Mitchell responded imperiously. If he noticed the danger in the Doctor's tone, he didn't show it. "I have three left to complete this year. Quaaboak, Venusian croquet, and chess. After that, I'll have completed everything. Perfect timing, too, because after that, I am relocated to the Martian Colony Recruitment Center."

"How do you do it, General Sir?" An older woman said from somewhere on the other side of the Doctor. "First prize every time. You must be incredibly talented."

I felt a mild urge to gag at the woman's simpery suck-upish question.

"Not so much as talent, my dear lady, as it is practice. Every year, I focus on twenty, and only twenty. I spend many hours perfecting the practice of the games. I find that the way to best perfect any skill, whether it be golf, or checkers, or war." the General let out a chuckle that made his mustache wiggle. "Practice, practice. Strategy. That is how we win."

"Practice with war?" The Doctor said lowly, an angry edge seeping into his tone. "How many people paid the price before you found your 'strategy'?"

General Mitchell finally turned his full attention to the Doctor, sizing him up. "Valiant men and women die for the cause, Mr…?"

"Doctor," the Doctor said curtly.

"Yes. And that would be Doctor…?"

"Just 'the Doctor'," the Time Lord said with an unsettling manic smile.

"Alright, 'the Doctor'." The General extended a hand carefully for the other man to shake. "As I'm sure you know, I am General Maynard M. Mitchell."

Ha. Maynard sounds like Mayonnaise.

"I was aware," the Doctor said stiffly, taking the proffered hand. "And even if I wasn't, I could read the sign."

"Would I be correct in saying, Doctor, that you have experience in combat?"

"You could say that, yeah."

"Command, too, perhaps?" The General breezed, holding the Doctor's gaze. I suddenly noticed that the Doctor was taller than General Mitchell, and I think the General noticed too, as he was subtly straightening up, trying to make himself seem taller. "You have an air about you, Doctor, that of a leader. Reminds me of myself in my younger days."

As the Doctor's companion, should I correct the general or not? I could tell the Doctor was stewing at the slightly condescending remark disguised as a compliment. So should I try to correct him or nah?

I cast a glance between the dangerously cheerful Time Lord and famous General.

Nah.

"Something like that." The Doctor untangled himself from my arm and clapped his hands together excitedly. "Now, show me what you've got here, General. Surely you've collected all sorts of interesting things in your… career… I'd love to take a look."

The General plainly didn't miss the disdain dripping from the Doctor's words, but he started showing us anyway. Coins and bullets and armour and dud grenades, the Doctor scrutinized them all the same. Thankfully, he didn't lose his cool like I'd feared he would. He made a few snide comments, but the General side stepped them easily.

I breathed a sigh of relief. General Mitchell appeared to be playing his cards right, not rising to the bait and allowing the Doctor to cool off a bit.

I had retaken the Doctor's hand at some point during the discussion. I gave it a squeeze, pleased when he squeezed back.

Then shit started to hit the fan.

A fan of General Mitchell, a youngish guy of about my age, had been hanging around at the Doctor's shoulder for a while as he waited for the General to give him his attention. Now he decided to pipe up.

"Excuse me sir," he interrupted, evidently having gotten impatient. "But my sister's deployed in the Arkadian Sector, where…"

"Where the Arkadians have caused conflict." The general let out a dramatic sigh. "So unfortunate."

"What about the Arkadians?" The Doctor asked lowly.

"Surely you are aware, Doctor," General Mitchell scoffed. "A man educated as yourself."

"Been travellin'."

Crap.

"Well, in short, there is a nebula that disorients the navigational systems of any ship that tries to pass through it. The only way through that part of space is through a channel. But that channel runs through Arkadian space." The General staged another seemingly rueful sigh. "Our explorers tried to negotiate an agreement of course, but the Arkadians refused. Tensions rose, and the Arkadians, rather savagely, if I might say, attacked an Earth vessel. Since then, EMAC has had forces stationed there, ensuring Earth vessels can make it through the pass safely."

"What, even though that stretch of space belongs to the Arkadians?" The Doctor growled.

General Mitchell shook his head sadly. "We found that the Arkadians were… irresponsible... with that 'stretch of space'... and couldn't be trusted to hold up their own agreements as to who was allowed through and who wasn't."

"But what I was trying to ask, sir," the younger guy piped up again, looking slightly miffed at being ignored again. "Is what would be the best way to handle the stuff goin' on over there? My sister's deployed there, you see, and I'm writin' a paper for class on 'conflicts faced by family members'. So I've got to ask, how would you handle it if you were still on active duty?"

The Doctor was tensed at my side like a loaded spring. I gave his hand another, somewhat nervous, squeeze. He didn't squeeze back.

"Well, that is a very loaded question, young man," the General sighed, ruffling his mustache thoughtfully. "Though I suppose, based on the reports I've seen on the issue, I would have treated it the same as I did back in my youth. A single, quick strike, just to pass across the message." He chuckled. "Like the battle of Yarnisit, I suppose. Or perhaps Impalicitizac."

"Like the Massacre!" The Doctor snarled, his voice rising. "All those people you had stripped from their homes an' murdered! You're saying you'd do it again?"

"Murdered, Doctor!" General Mitchell snapped back, finally rising to the bait. "It was a military engagement! People died, unfortunately, but that is what happens!"

"'Cept it wasn't a fight between two armies, was it?" The Doctor barked. "It was a civilian settlement, right? The Yarnisit City law enforcement did their best to stop you from harming the people, but once you'd slaughtered them, there was nothing stoppin' you from mowing down ordinary citizens."

"How dare you, Doctor!" The General sputtered. "Accuse me of… of foul play! I'll have you know that my actions were fully justified and supported by command…"

"But they didn't did they? Your little strike was unauthorized by told you to pull out, but you didn't. Wanted to grab a little glory for yourself. An' when the dust settled, command had to support you to avoid interplanetary backlash," the Doctor spat.

"What's a few lives all at once compared to all the lives that were saved by decades of peaceful trade and interactions? A worthy sacrifice!"

"Worth over 18 thousand lives? How many of those were children? 8 thousand?"

"Perhaps!" The General hissed. "But is it not preferable to sacrifice a handful of savage pests and their offspring to make way for our own expansion? After that they allowed us to show them new ways, _better_ ways! They are better off in a life of progressiveness and enginuity because of ME!"

I tugged on the Doctor's arm desperately, having a pretty good idea of what was coming. "He's not worth it, Doctor. Let's go."

But he wasn't listening. Something strange had crossed the Doctor's face, more than just ordinary outrage. Angry and haunted, like he was back on the battlefields of Gallifrey. In a way, maybe he was.

General Mitchell was flustered and red with anger. He opened his mouth to retort, but the Doctor was in full swing.

"Cause it doesn't matter whose children have to scream and burn. Whose lives are ruined and whose lost family an' everything they had. Because what are they compared to you pathetic little lives? Just something to be eradicated and exterminated whenever they get in the way!"

"If that is what we must do…" The General roared. "That is what we will do!"

"Make the same mistakes over and over again… always saying you'll never let it happen again." The Doctor continued as if General Mitchell hadn't spoken. "And yet here we are… forgotten about something that happened less than twenty years ago so much that you're givin' the same advice to children!"

The Doctor whirled around to face the terrified young man that had asked the question in the first place. "You want to know how to fix the problem? Cause I've led and fought in wars bigger than your tiny ape mind can even comprehend, an' you know the only way to stop the fighting? It's to stop fighting. It's their bloody territory! Leave them alone! Go around the bloody nebula! A few weeks extra travel is nothin' compared to even a single life!"

General went deadly calm. "So you are an offworlder?' He turned to address the terrified spectators with an icy chuckle. "That explains it. Off worlders tend to lack the same rationality as mankind; the same understanding of objectivity, progress, and in this case, social etiquette."

The Doctor looked like he was about to explode. I cast a quick glance around the room. The small crowd around General Mitchell's booth had doubled in size as people nearby came over to see what the fuss was about. Sure, some people looked upset, others looked uncomfortable or even like they agreed with the Doctor, but others were angry, throwing the Time Lord hostile looks.

It wouldn't be long before one of them called security. I had to do something now, before the Doctor did something he would regret.

I swung myself around to face my friend, gripping his hand tightly as I gazed upward at him desperately.

"Doctor, come on. He's not worth it," I pleaded desperately. "Just ignore the stupid ape. Let's go."

Much to my surprise, the Doctor tore his poisonous gaze away from the General to look down at me. It took all I had not to quaver in fear at the look on his face. Full 'oncoming storm', he was terrifying, but only for a moment longer. His icy blue eyes stared deeply into mine for a second, and then they softened.

The Doctor gave a single, curt nod and allowed me to pull him through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea for Moses as we passed though.

A cruel, cackling laugh echoed from behind us. "It was nice chatting with you, Doctor!" The General called, the tone of his voice not at all matching the politeness you'd expect from that sentence.

I spun around neatly without letting go of the Doctor's hand, waggled my middle finger at the arrogant man, and spun back around without breaking my stride, reveling in the shock it brought to his stupid mustached face.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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We ended up going back to our mat after I suggested we grab some lunch. The Doctor had gone extremely quiet after our encounter with General Maynard M. Mitchell, only speaking in distracted, one word responses and only if I asked him a direct question.

It was incredibly plain that he was upset, and I understood why. I still needed to ask him how far away from the Time War he was, though I was getting more and more sure that it was close, REALLY close.

I glanced over at my leather-clad companion worriedly. He was sitting silently on the blue mat, legs stretched out in front of him and hands in his lap, not at all the excited, grinning lump he had been only a few hours before. His face was kept carefully blank, but I could imagine what was going through that tired old head of his.

I rolled over on my stomach and wriggled to the edge of the mat to sift through the mass of grass and clovers that grew just beyond the blue rubber.

He was extremely upset. Undoubtedly meeting someone as cruel and careless as General Mitchell had reopened some just-barely-even-started-healing wounds from the Time War. His mind was probably racing through the faces and acts of the people he'd encountered that were just like Mitchell, all the people that were killed because of their narrow minded arrogance. Then, unfortunately, he would probably be thinking of himself and all the people he killed during the war.

I felt a pang of sadness and glanced back at the Doctor. He looked so miserable, just staring at the ground in front of him.

I wanted to help. I could tell him that his people aren't really gone, just locked away in a pocket universe-y thing. Wait, no I couldn't. Foreknowledge is bad, remember?

Should I try to talk to him? I turned my attention away from the sad alien and back to the grass in front of my face. Talking to him might make him uncomfortable. I mean, he might really need to talk to someone, and God knows I'd be willing to listen, but we hadn't really known each other for very long.

I gave a dry sniff of kinda-sort of-amusement. Sorry, you must be at least a level 33 friend to unlock 'tragic backstory'.

What else could I do to try and cheer him up? I was a clumsy conversationalist with a shitty sense of humor. More than likely I'd just end up annoying or offending him.

Damn, I can't even cheer myself up, how am I supposed to cheer the freaking Doctor up? If I was sad, I would look at memes and watch funny youtube videos. Did the Doctor like memes? Doubt it. 2018 humor is an acquired taste.

Youtube? Everyone likes cat videos. I touched my phone, which had been spending the day tucked away in my waistband. Wait. He hadn't upgraded it yet, so I doubted I'd have any signal.

I leaned back over and continued fiddling with the patch of grass and clovers. Man, I'm a shitty friend.

My hand brushed over something interesting. Well, it was interesting to me, being as easily amused as I was.

A four leaf clover.

Would a four leaf clover make the mighty Time Lord feel better?

I plucked it out of the ground and rolled the stem around in my fingers.

Probably not.

But what did I have to lose? I had to try something.

I flipped over onto my back and rolled over so that I was lying face up with my head just short of the Doctor's lap. Not close enough so I was touching him, but enough so I could look up at him while being directly in his line of sight.

"Look what I found," I said as cheerfully as I could, holding up the clover for him to see.

The Doctor blinked at me in surprise, undoubtedly caught of guard by my sudden appearance. Then he went cross eyed trying to look at the clover and I realised how close I was holding it to his face.

I pulled the tiny plant back a bit so he could see it better. After a second, his face softened; whether it was softened because he was touched/amused by the gesture or because his friend was a childish creature that needed to be accommodated, I really didn't care.

"For you," I continued brightly, encouraged by his expression. "Merry Christmas or… you know… whatever holiday is closest… What month even is it, anyway?"

The Doctor took the clover from me carefully, studying it while he rolled the stem around between his fingers as I had done. My heart leapt when the ghost of a smile graced his lips.

"It's July," he said softly, still toying with the clover.

"Hey hey!" I exclaimed happily. I threw my hands straight up in the air and clapped them together. "Christmas in July!"

The Doctor snorted in amusement.

Encouraged by my so far success at cheering him up a little, I decided to take it as a personal challenge. Let's try for a real smile.

I rolled back up into a sitting position, retrieving my phone from my waistband and wiping the sweat off of it as I went. Then I flopped back against the Doctor, holding the device up and turning it to the front camera.

"Come on, Doctor, beautiful day in San Francisco. Selfie time." I grinned into the camera happily, still not entirely comfortable with the face of the girl that smiled back at me, though I was NOT about to let that show.

The Doctor turned his head to look and frowned. "No selfies. That's a human thing." I would've been discouraged if it weren't for the good natured gleam in his eyes.

I scowled into the camera as well. "Sexy smoulder. I like it."

That did it. A huge grin spread across the Doctor's face.

I laughed and smiled too. "Cute smile's even better."

The Doctor laughed and we spent the next few minutes making faces at the camera. I even talked him into doing the duck face, a picture I would forever treasure for as long as I lived.

We broke off our photoshoot when the robot bearing our lunch came rolling up. This time the Doctor stood to receive it and bring it to the mat.

"Oh, banana pudding!" The Doctor said happily as he went through the box's contents.

I smiled and nodded. The Doctor had been fairly despondent when I was ordering the food, so I had made a wild guess as to what he would like to eat. I knew he likes bananas, so I had decided to include it in the hopes that it would make him feel a little better.

It worked. The Doctor was back to his chatty self, talking about bananas and potassium and nutritional value while we chowed down on our sandwiches. I listened to him contentedly, happy to have been able to do something for the Doctor. THE DOCTOR. How many Whovians would kill for a chance to make the Doctor feel better?

The Doctor scoffed down the last of his meal and settled back onto the mat with a content sigh, staring into the alien crowds before casting a glance back in my direction.

"You've still got clay in your hair," he informed me.

I ran my fingers through my hair, searching for the offending strands. "I'll bet. I'm _never_ gonna get it all out. In thirty years I'm gonna look in the mirror and find clay instead of grey hairs…"

"Here, I'll get it," the Doctor chuckled, leaning over to brush a few strands of my dark red hair aside before locating the chalky substance in question. I felt him crush the piece of clay between his fingers deftly and pick out the remaining bits. Then, to my surprise, he ran his fingers through the rest of my hair.

A peasant tingle went down my spine as his fingers brushed gently against my scalp, making my heart flutter strangely. I kept incredibly still while he continued toying with the red locks, worried that if I so much as breathed that I would frighten him away.

At first, I thought he was checking for more clay, and maybe that was exactly what he was doing, but it seemed strange for him to scratch softly at my scalp and twist the hair around his fingers in a curious sort of manner if he was just looking for clay. Whatever he was doing, it felt really, really nice.

We sat like that for a solid minute, the Doctor playing with my hair. But at the end of that sort, blissful minute, the Doctor stopped abruptly and sat back.

"You've uh… got purple in your hair," he said awkwardly.

Wait, was he… blushing? His ears and cheeks looked significantly redder than they had before. Probably not. Why would he blush? And anyway it wasn't like I had been paying attention to what shade his skin was when he wasn't blushing. How would I know the difference?

"Yeah," I responded nonchalantly, trying to hide the fact that I was blushing whether the Doctor was or not. I picked out a purple streak and studied it. "I had it done forever ago. Just to shake things up a bit, you know? It's finally starting to grow out." I dropped the streak and glanced back up at the Doctor. "I've been thinking about getting it redone, but I'm not sure it's worth the hassle."

"You should. It suits you."

I smiled at the complement. Maybe I _should_ get it redone. It might be hard to find time while I was on the TARDIS, but I'm sure that he would drop me off for a few hours if I asked.

We spent the next few minutes in a semi-comfortable silence. I was keeping quiet because I was fairly certain that the Doctor was trying to work himself up to say something and I didn't want him to find an excuse not to.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said eventually, staring down at one of his hands. "Shouldn't have lost my temper like that, even at General Mitchell."

"Nah, don't sweat it," I said easily. "He's a terrible person. I don't know how many times I wished I had the nerve to tell off a terrible person. God knows there were enough of them from my time."

The Doctor hummed in agreement. "Doesn't mean that I should've." He shook his head angrily. "Just sets my teeth on edge, knowin' he gets to live on, despite what he did. No consequences. Doesn't even regret it."

Now it was my turn to hum in agreement.

"And then," the Doctor went on, "he has the nerve to take a jab at nonhumans. Thinks he's the best out of everyone. That's what his contest winning thing is about. Provin' he can beat anyone from any culture."

I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully, an idea forming in my mind.

"How good are you a chess?" I asked suddenly, taking the Doctor by surprise. I already knew that he was great at chess, but that wasn't the point.

"Fantastic, actually," he snorted. "Time Lord's invented chess." He frowned at me skeptically. "Why?"

"Think you can beat General Mayonnaise?" I prompted.

"Mayonnaise?" He chuffed, looking confused. Then a slow smile spread across his face. "Definitely, yeah."

"Cause I was thinking…" I drawled despite knowing that he had probably already worked out what I was suggesting. "Since our dear friend General Maynard Mayonnaise will be competing in whatever chess competition they've got here… it would be a shame if he just… you know… lost."

"What, to a nonhuman?" The Doctor said in mock horror.

"A tragedy, I know," I grinned maliciously. "Especially since it's his last year at the fair cause he's moving to Mars or... whatever. Last year, last chance to beat everything?"

The Doctor let out a hoot of laughter, grinning maniacally at the thought of a last 'fuck you' to General Mayonnaise.

**_~0~0~0~_ **

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**_~0~0~0~_ **

A few hours later I sat on a fold out chair among the other fifty or so people watching the chess tournament. As predicted, the Doctor easily wiped the floor with everyone he went up against, laughing and chatting amicably while his opponents sweated and stalled, trying to delay the inevitable.

I had to bite back giggles as he went against General Mitchell. The Doctor was leaned back in his chair, conversing with the chess-referee-guy (or whatever they called him; I'd never been to a chess championship before), who was a strange weaselly looking guy that was dressed in vertical black and white stripes and covered head to toe in every kind of good luck charm you could possibly imagine; four leaf clovers, horseshoes, lucky pennies, and a crap ton of stuff I didn't recognize.

I couldn't tell from my spot in the audience, but I was pretty sure the chess overseer guy was talking to the Doctor about good luck charms, seeing as the chess guy kept showing the Doctor the horseshoe hanging from his necklace and his bracelets made of dice.

I smiled fondly at the sight of the four leaf clover I had given the Doctor. Before he had started in the chess tournament, he had carefully placed the clover in the top button hole of his leather jacket, claiming it was his good luck charm. I could still see it now, a small splash of green on the Time Lord's lapel.

In contrast to the Doctor's confident demeanor, General Mayonnaise seemed to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. He spent forever on each move, eyes darting around the board while his mustache quivered anxiously.

When the Doctor called checkmate, the General flipped the board, shouting vulgar things about conspiracy and sabotage before he stormed off into the night, leaving behind a very smug Doctor to receive his gold chess piece shaped medal.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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"Feel better?" I asked the Doctor as we strolled out of the fair and back towards the blue box parked in the grass near the water's edge, practically glowing in the late evening light.

The Doctor's fingers laced through mine. He squeezed my hand as we walked. I looked up to see a content smile on his face, looking more relaxed than I had seen him so far. I squeezed his fingers back.

"Mm-hmm," he hummed happily. "Did you see Mitchell's face?"

"You bet," I laughed. "I thought his mustache was gonna fall off."

The Doctor snorted and reached into his jacket for the TARDIS key. He froze, retrieved his hand and began examining his leather jacket hurriedly, looking for something.

"What?" he complained, patting his lapel frantically. "He stole it!"

I stared at him in confusion. "Huh?"

"The man in the striped suit, he stole the clover!" The Doctor scowled grumpily. "Should've known, all that talk about lucky objects. He bumped into me an' everything."

"Don't worry, I'll find you another one," I reassured him, leaning against the corner of the box while he went back to locating the key.

The Doctor frowned sourly as he unlocked the TARDIS, not looking at all convinced.

"Guess all humans are the same, huh?" I snorted as I followed him in, closing the door behind me. "Fighting and stealing."

The Doctor looked up from the console and fixed his intense blue eyes on me.

"Not all of them," he said simply, resting his hand on the dematerialization lever.  
  


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	9. The Remembrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mild violence and death

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**_Chapter Nine: The Remembrance_ **

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_The tribesmen cheered and roared._

_Crazy dances that blurred their limbs into a single, pulsing mess. Morphing into one giant creature. Wild and untamed._

_And the stench._

_God, the stench._

_Blood and sweat and dirt and… burning metal?_

_The tall tribesmen shoved me and the two anthropologists to the center of the room. At the base of the mound. The altar. The highrise…_

_One of the anthropologists cried out fearfully and we all exchanged frightened looks. Their wide, stormy grey eyes glittered in the moonlight, reflecting the terror that I felt._

_The other anthropologist, the one that hadn't cried out, turned and snarled at our captors before doing the same to the audience, but they only laughed and jeered._

_The tribe leader flanked by the two elders, stood before us, chanting in a language that I couldn't understand. The rest of the tribe took up the cry, making the chieftain's words resonate in the huge clay dome so loud that my teeth rattled in their sockets. Except I didn't care. I only had eyes for the shadows stretching on the walls. They streaked high above the heads of the men, converging on the mound, leaving the air shivering in their wake._

_I turned to look at the anthropologists, to see if they saw the shadows too._

_They didn't._

_They only had eyes for the chieftain._

_They couldn't see the monsters between the air._

_They couldn't see them._

_Something hard rammed into my back and nearly sent me sprawling. I looked back to see the guards, shoving us along._

_One of the anthropologists stumbled against me and I grabbed her arm to help keep her upright. I held her hand as we were ushered up the altar, up so we were standing on the small platform on the top. Side by side, facing the ancient woman, who was something of nightmares dressed in her ceremonial clothes, skull mask and blood-dyed fabrics._

_The ancient woman took out a knife that shone bright silver in the light. Gleaming and sharp. She sliced it horizontally in the space before our faces._

_I winced, dreading the next swing that would surely bite into my flesh._

_But it didn't come._

_The gash wasn't in my skin._

_It was in the air._

_Suspended in midair, less than a foot from our faces, a tear opened up. It split the moonlight in the way of a dark, jagged scar. From the gash, the surrounding room peeled away as the darkness in it widened, eating at the skin of this world to make room for another._

_A gasp caught in my throat, cold deep-seated dread trickled through my bones._

_In the darkness… was the ghost of the room we were in now. I struggled to make sense of it. Dark light illuminated the other side of the room visible through the crack, showing… the people that were in it now… except instead of grey and covered in scarlet war paint, baring their teeth and shouting… the people on the other side were blank. Faceless, translucent silhouettes dancing without the slightest sign of life or emotion, echoes of each individual's past and the ghosts of their future stretching out on either side of them, every move that had ever been made in this room and every movement that would ever be made in it's days to come, the people that attended the ceremonies of a thousand suns ago mixed with those who wouldn't enter the room for a thousand more, mixing and pulsating into a living fog._

_The fog._

_I could feel it tingling against my skin._

_In my mind._

_And the noise._

_Deafeningly loud and stifling quiet._

_At the same time._

_Laughter of the long dead and the cries of those not yet born._

_The roar of the abyss._

_The silence of the void._

_And…_

… _Screaming…_

_...The screaming…._

_Who was screaming?_

_It wasn't from the echoes._

_It wasn't from in front of me._

_I turned my head to find the source of the screams._

_One of the anthropologists stared into the other side, screaming in agony as her mind burned. She screamed and screamed until she collapsed on the ground, silent with her hands curled into her hair, poised to pull it out if she wasn't stone-still._

_My other hand jerked in the grip of the other anthropologist. I turned to see her. We were closer to the tear than the other woman had been, standing in the mouth of the gap in space while the other woman had been slightly behind us, her mind far too preoccupied with shattering to be able to orchestrate the few steps forward._

_The other woman continued to stare into the gash. Her mind was in tact, but her body was coming apart._

_She was dying._

_I could feel it._

_Atom by atom._

_She came apart._

_She seemed to know what was happening too._

_But all she could do was mouth, "Help me!"_

_I didn't let go of her hand._

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I sat bolt upright, gasping and drenched in sweat. The semi-familiar sight of my room in the TARDIS greeted me, but did nothing to calm me down.

I threw the soft tangle of blankets and stumbled out of bed, not bothering to change out of my pajamas or even put on shoes in my rush to get out of the room.

Fluffy red carpet squished between my toes until the hallway changed into the freezing metal corridors as I hurried down the corridors toward the console room, my feet slapping against the floor and baggy pajama pants fluttering around my ankles.

The Doctor was in the space under the TARDIS grating. He looked up from whatever he was doing when I appeared at the mouth of the dark corridor.

"You're up late," he commented. "Trouble sleeping?" He must've noticed the look on my face, because he straightened up and focused on me with a serious expression. "What's wrong?"

"The girl," I said, cold horror spreading out from my spine to my fingertips so that I shivered. "She died. I felt it. I felt her come apart. I held her hand."

The Doctor pulled himself up out of the grating and paced over to me softly, his eyes gentle but laser-focused. "What girl?"

"The one in the dome, with the tribe on that planet," I continued urgently, "She dissolved. That's why she didn't come back to the cage."

Understanding flooded across the Doctor's face. "Y'mean Fealrig? The other anthropologist?"

I nodded eagerly, glad he understood what I was trying to tell him. I was still disoriented from sleep, so I wasn't sure how much sense I was making.

"You remember what happened?" The Doctor pressed. "The memory came back?"

"Yeah." I looked down at my bare feet. "She just… dissolved. Came apart. She was too close to the opening. I should've pulled her back, but I didn't."

"It's not your fault," the Doctor reassured, resting one of his large hands on my shoulder. "I figured that's what happened. I know it's horrible, I'm sorry."

"And I didn't see it happen, I felt it." I gave my head a shake, finally starting to get my bearings. "I felt her come apart, atom by atom... it .. it…" I gave my head another shake, still deeply unsettled.

The Doctor nodded. "You're probably more sensitive to the stuff on the edge. More aware of what's goin' on. What else d'you remember?"

"The other one… what was it? Plumb…?"

"Plumkig."

"Yeah. She wasn't as close to the tear as Fealrig and me were, but she just… started screaming…"

The Doctor murmured sadly, indicating that he'd already guessed that too. "An' what abou' the tear?"

"They… uh… the old lady, the elder… she had a knife… a silver blade. And she just…. I dunno… cut through the air with it, right in front of us." I waved my hand in front of my face to demonstrate. "And it just sort of opened up and… the... the air… the space around it just sort of split away from it until it was big enough for me to walk through, if I wanted…. It was…" I rubbed my face tiredly. "I don't know."

The Doctor rubbed my shoulder again. "What else did you see? Through the tear, I mean. Only a few people have ever seen it."

"Weird, just, really weird. Very 'upside-down'-ish, but even weirder."

"'Upside-down', you've mentioned that before." He frowned. "Another tv show, you said?"

I nodded. It might sound silly, but it was the closest I could liken to what I had seen. "Yeah, _Stranger Things_ , it was really popular in my universe. I don't know if it exists here, though."

"Might be worth a look," the Doctor admitted. "I'll take a look through the TARDIS files. What else can you tell me?"

"I could see the people on the other side," I added. "The ones that were in the room at the same time as me. They were… almost solid… but blank…. Like… just their shape. They didn't have faces or anything. And at the same time I could see every movement they made in the room, before were they were and after. It was less solid… just… just fog. I don't know… it was… was…" I gave up trying to explain, throwing my hands down in defeat. "Chaos."

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully, chewing on my explanation deliberately. Then he seemed to brush it off.

"Come on, then. Nice cup o' tea, that's what you need." He steered me back down the corridor, hand still on my shoulder. "An' then it's back to bed with ya'. I need you fresh for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?" I asked uncertainly.

"Just stuff. I need you sharp. Plus, I could use a cuppa anyway." He ushered me past the corridor that would take us to the hallway of bedrooms and to the right, where we entered a very large, very impressive kitchen. "Been workin' on those circuits for ages. Just can't seem to get 'em workin' properly."

"Is that what you usually do when I'm asleep?" I inquired, leaning against the white tile counter while he fished out blue teapot and started filling it with water. "Work on the TARDIS?"

"Sometimes," he admitted, his voice soft enough to almost be lost in the sounds of water ringing off the bottom of the metal pot. "Alright, most of the time. But I do other stuff around the TARDIS, too, projects an' stuff."

It was interesting, watching him make tea. Not that there was anything particularly strange about the task, it was just strange seeing his large, bulky, leather-clad form doing anything other than exploring alien worlds. Maybe it was because this Doctor was so keen on avoiding 'domestics'.

"How much do you sleep?" I asked curiously, finally feeling comfortable enough to start asking some more personal questions.

He stiffened. Sore subject? Why would that be a sore subject?

"A lot less than you," he sniffed, neatly sidestepping the question. "Humans sleep an average of eight to ten hours. Eight hours is absolute ages, an' you go for about ten."

I let the change in subject slide. I'd thought that had been a pretty safe question, but apparently not. Oh well, I wasn't about to press. "You time my sleep cycles?"

"No. It's an approximation. If you're gone for about fourteen hours, and leave two for gettin' dressed and groomin' or whatever, that leaves somewhere around ten. How you lot get anythin' done is beyond me." He huffed and started to pour the tea. "Sugar is in the cabinet above your head, milk is in the fridge to your left."

I went about gathering the milk and sugar while he finished pouring. Both the milk and sugar were very plainly not from Earth, judging by the packaging. Though it pretty much tasted the same.

I stirred my tea and waited for it to cool a bit while the Doctor did the same with his. We sat for a minute or two in a kind of comfortable silence before he piped up again.

"An' you're from the southern part of the United States," he realized, peering at me from over the rim of his mug with curious blue eyes. "You don't usually 'ave hot tea, do ya?"

"Well, I _did_ live in London for a year," I sniffed, "But no, most of the tea I had growing up was iced and heavily sweetened."

The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "I like my tea hot, thanks."

"Guess it's an acquired taste," I smirked. "Better on a hot day though." Another question popped in my head as my mind went back to all the food items I'd seen in the cabinet and fridge. "Does the TARDIS like… restock itself with food or do you, you know, have to go grocery shopping every now and then?"

He snorted. "Me. Grocery shoppin'. That's an idea." He shook his head. "Nah, TARDIS does the basics. Food's no different than anythin' else 'round here. It's all just atoms."

I took a thoughtful swig from my cup. "Like on Star Trek? Matter-energy conversion replicator kinda thing?"

The Doctor's eyes lit up and he launched into a spiel about converting atoms into energy and vice versa. Apparently Star Trek had been on the right track, because what the Doctor described sounded very much like the concept behind the fictional science.

Before long, our cups were drained and I found myself being shooed off back to bed while the Doctor vanished back into the depths of his beloved ship to do whatever it was he did while I wasn't around to see.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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	10. The Otherside

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_**Chapter Ten: The Otherside** _

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"Sure you're ready for this?" The Doctor asked, towering over me, bright blue eyes peering into mine.

I glanced down at the familiar gold medallion he was holding, fear settling in my gut like a rock. "No."

We were standing in a field, well, it was a field now, but it used to be a ancient village. What had once been walls had been worn down into crumbled heaps, leaving behind only the outline of the bases of the buildings. We were on Earth, somewhere in Africa; exactly where, I don't know. The Doctor had said that it was important we weren't interrupted and could control the factor of the environment, but wanted to stay on Earth. Something about 'human natural habitat' or whatever. I had been too freaked out by the notion of going back into the Otherside to understand what he was talking about.

"It's all right,"The Doctor said gently, putting the metal medallion over my head. "Just a quick hop, explore a bit, and report back."

"But last time I saw it, I forgot," I protested, staring up at him unhappily.

"Last time you were in the middle of a stressful situation. Lots of stuff goin' on in that little human head of yours. Life and death stuff. Your brain saw something it couldn't compute right away so it stashed it away to be processed later when you weren't so overwhelmed by everythin' else. Shouldn't have that problem this time."

A whine bubbled up in my throat, but the Doctor didn't seem to notice. He was too busy setting up the silver tripod-like sensors that he had pulled out from a storage closet in the TARDIS. He set them up in a row, three of them, all in a line in front of the blue box.

"Right, just a quick run. Pop in, take a quick look around, and come straight back," he continued, oblivious to my distress. "Wanna take it slow. I'm not sure how exposure to the rim dimensions will affect human physiology."

"I thought you said I could survive it?" My voice squeaked in a manner that would've been embarrassing if I hadn't been so terrified. "Am I gonna dissolve? Dissolve like the anthropologist?"

"Nah, don't think so," He plugged a cord that ran from inside the TARDIS into one of the tripods. "But even if you are resistant to the molecular destabilization, no human's ever done this before. Don't wanna take any chances. Few minutes in, followed by a full checkup. Should be fine, though."

"What if it doesn't work?" I whined, staring at the medallion in my hand.

"Then it doesn't work. We shove it into a box on a shelf and go off to see the Red Iristuciztationial Blockade Parade in the year four thousand an' twenty two. Supposed to be fantastic. Been plannin' on going for ages but never got around to it."

He bounded back up to my side and I couldn't help but grin a little at his goofy smile.

"But what if it works going in, but doesn't coming out?" Panic settled back in, even more powerful than before, wiping my sorry attempt at a smile off my face. "What happens if I can't get back out?"

"It'll be alright, I promise." The Doctor rested his hands on both of my shoulders and fixed me with his intense gaze. "If you can get in, you can get back out. This is all trial and error, anyway. Stitchin' is a sort of art… fine craft… that originated on Galli…" He dropped his hands and turned away quickly. "It's important. Passed down from generation to generation." He turned back, a pleasant mask plastered to his face, though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Master to apprentice. Sort of sacred, or it used to be… millenia ago. Specially taught to specific pupils that are resistant to the molecular destabilization. And not to me."

"So in other words, neither of us has any idea what we're doing?" I sighed. "Stitching?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "We'll get more into that later." He shoved his hands in his coat pockets defensively. "An' I'm not entirely clueless! Been readin' up on it. Got the basics down at least. Books're just a bit vague, though. Guess they didn't want to give up _all_ their secrets."

"Trial and error," I sighed, staring back at the medallion. God, I wished I had thrown it away at that hotel in London.

"Exactly," the Doctor confirmed cheerfully. "But that's why we're all the way out here. No one around to get in the way, an' if you do accidentally tear a hole in the fabric of reality, no one is around to notice." He patted one of the tripods affectionately. "That's what these are for. They detect spreading tears and keep them contained to this area. Just until you get a feel for the manipulator. Not to mention they ward off… well…" He tugged at his ear nervously. "Well… doesn't matter. Ready?"

I shrugged, palming the medallion anxiously. 'No' wasn't exactly an option, was it?

"Alright then, like I showed you," the Doctor prompted.

I pressed my thumb firmly on the center jewel. Apparently the medallion was psychic, which was honestly the least surprising thing I'd heard in the last few days, and linked to the user: me. This way, I could send the medallion… extradimensional manipulator… mental commands.

According to the Doctor, there weren't actually specific commands… you just sort of… _wanted_ it to do whatever it was it did. Impulse and urges… those are the words the Doctor used. As indecisive as I was, it was probably a good thing.

So, that's what I did. I mentally _willed_ the thing to… I don't know… do it's thing and... let me into the outer dimensions…?

Well, I really didn't _want_ it to... though apparently my true desires didn't interfere, because the medallion began humming in my hand, usually cold metal becoming warm to the touch.

Though my feet didn't leave the ground, I felt a jerk somewhere behind my navel and felt the sensation of being pulled forward. But instead of being pulled through the empty space and warm air that had been in front of me, it was like being ripped through a think tangle of extremely tough spider webs. Sticky and rough.

Then I was in open air again.

Except it didn't feel like air. Not really. Thick like extremely hot and humid air, except cold.

I opened my eyes and was greeted by the sight of the strange place I'd seen before.

Dark, bluish light illuminated the area, seemingly coming from everywhere, embroidered by deep, impenetrable shadows, surrounded by a wispy, fog that felt… sort of… _alive._

But other than the ambiance, I was standing in the exact same spot I had been. The Doctor… or the grey mass that was vaguely Doctor shaped… was standing a few paces away. Like the natives I'd seen in the dome, he was blank and slightly see-through. No face, no hair, no leather jacket, just a blank grey shape. Sort of like a cloth-less mannequin or a computer program person that hadn't been given any details yet.

I reached out to him hesitantly with a trembling hand. My hand went through his arm almost like he wasn't there, only catching briefly, like he was made out of something slightly denser than the surrounding atmosphere..

I turned my attention away from the Doctor and gazed around the area with a sort of disturbed and frightened wonder.

Even though I was standing in the middle of an ancient village, it's walls having been worn down by centuries of rain and blown away as particles in the wind, I could see the ghosts of the buildings.

The structures weren't anywhere near solid, barely distinguishable from the rest of the fog. Thin outlines of the had-been.

Then it came to my attention that the fog wasn't fog at all.

It was _people._

They mixed together indeterminately, but I could see them, weaving their own path around the people that had been in the village at the exact same time as them and going straight through the ones that were there before or after their time. Everyone that had ever walked through the village were there for me to see.

I shuddered and squinted, trying to pick out individuals. It wasn't entirely easy to see in this place. Not only was it dark and, well, foggy with the echoes of the long dead, but everything seemed slightly out of focus unless I was looking directly at it.

A glance back over at the Doctor's mostly solid 'present-time echo' confirmed that the blurriness wasn't just because all the shapes were distorting together to make them more difficult to see. Although everything seemed eerily still, the place gave the vague impression of vibrating. I shuddered again. Weird.

Then something else caught my eye. There, off to the side, was an impenetrable grey wall of… mist? It definitely wasn't wood or stone or anything solid, for that matter. But I couldn't see through it. Just a mass of… nothing.

Nothing.

It was the end.

Edge of the universe.

I wasn't really sure how I knew that, but the way the wall made my skin prickle and caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end made me sure of it. I gazed up, looking for the top of the wall. There wasn't one. It just stretched up and up and up until it vanished into the night dark sky. The edge of everything.

And it was only thirty meters away. I started walking towards it for a better look, when suddenly I found myself at the edge of the clearing I had been in, no closer to the wall than I had been before. I turned to look back at the Doctor to see he was almost a football field length away, pacing back in forth in front of the TARDIS. He'd said to not go far, not stay in too long.

I started walking back, casting glances over my shoulder every few steps to look at the edge. It always stayed the exact same distance away, a foreboding, looming presence, everywhere and nowhere at the exact same time.

When I made it back to where the Doctor was, I was struck by the sight of the TARDIS. Unlike everything else in this peculiar realm, it was solid. My hand brushed against the wood, but didn't go through it. The wood was freezing, as if I were touching a textured block of ice. I shivered in response. Everything was so cold here. The regular world, on the other side, had been so warm.

Movement caught my eye. The Doctor was pacing again. As much as I hadn't wanted to come here, now that I didn't seem to be in any immediate danger, I was hesitant to leave. There was still so much to check out.

The Doctor-shape looked at his wrist, seemingly to check his watch.

Okay, time to go back.

I reached up to my neck to thumb the red jewel again. In theory, I _should_ be able to get out the same way I got in.

The manipulator hummed in my hand, but nothing happened.

White hot panic flashed through my body. _Back._ I wanted to go _back._ It was neat here and I wanted to explore, but I wanted to get back to the other side, the side that I _belonged_ on. I mean, it might not be my universe, but I wanted to be there more than I wanted to be here. I looked around fearfully. I was alone here. I didn't want to be alone again. I didn't want to die here, alone and empty while the Doctor…

A familiar jerk sourced around my navel jerked me back through the interdimensional spider webs, effectively cutting off the beginning of my panic attack.

Hot sunlight washed against my face. I breathed a sigh of relief and opened my eyes.

The Doctor turned around from where he had been pacing, froze at the sight of me, and bounded over, a relieved grin stretching from ear to ear.

"Alright?" He asked, shoving the sonic in my face and scanning me while he peered into my eyes worriedly.

"Yeah, fine, I think," I answered, squinting against the sonic's blue light.

The Doctor stopped scanning and put the screwdriver down. "Well?"

I shook my head thoughtfully. "Weird."

Suddenly he snatched up my hand and started dragging me into the TARDIS, saying, "Tell me about it when we get to the Medbay. Come on. I wanna give you a once over before anythin' else."

"The TARDIS has a Medbay?" I squeaked, almost tripping over the stair that led into a corridor I hadn't been down yet.

"Course it does!" He scoffed. "There's a swimmin' pool and a golf course. Why wouldn't there be a Medbay?"

"I dunno."

The Doctor let go of my hand when we entered an extremely white, sterile looking room. I paused for a second to take it in. It looked like the inside of a futuristic doctor's office. I wrinkled my nose. Smelled like one too.

"Come on, stop dawdlin'" the Doctor ordered from where he was digging through a drawer. "Up on that table there."

I spotted the table, which looked like any other doctor's office table, minus the annoying paper they usually had on top. Much to my annoyance, I had to use the stool sitting on the floor in front of it in order to clamber up onto the padded table. I would _never_ get used to being this short.

By the time I got situated, Doctor 'The Doctor' had strode back over with a variety of scanner-things, which he laid out on the table beside me before scanning my forehead with one of them.

"What was it like?" He asked after a moment. Although he seemed focused on the scanny-thing, his eyes were glittering with enthusiasm. "Just think about it. You've just been to a place that no one else'll be able to see. Someplace _I'll_ never be able to go. Imagine that! Almost nine 'undred years old an' seven hundred years of time and space an' that's somethin' I'll never see. Go on then."

His excitement was contagious. I found myself babbling out what I had seen to him just like he did when he was fired up about something. The Doctor listened intently as I recounted the experience, making sure to explain the shadow-ghost people and the end of the universe. He stayed quiet until I'd finished, switching between medical instruments, absorbing while he worked.

"See, when we move through the universe, we leave footprints," the Doctor explained. "Not like footprints in the mud, but full-body imprints in the fabric of reality, which would explain these 'ghosts' you saw. That's why I appeared more solid than the others. Think about it. Multi-dimensional indentations. When you set foot in a place, just for a moment, even after centuries have passed, the universe will still bear your mark on it." A soft smile spread across his face and his eyes got misty. "That's fantastic, that is."

"Poetic," I agreed warmly. Gah, the Doctor could be so adorable sometimes. "Why was the TARDIS solid?"

"She's a multidimensional machine, that and she's old. Mind if I take some cell samples?" The Doctor picked up a large cigar lighter looking thing and a small pack of disinfectant wipes.

I stared at the device skeptically for a second before nodding my consent. "Uh… sure?"

He smiled. "Fantastic. Just roll up your sleeve, please."

I rolled up the sleeve of the thin long sleeved sweater I was wearing and the Doctor cleaned his hands with the wipes before doing the same to a spot on my upper arm.

"The TARDIS is the best ship in the universe," the Doctor continued as he cleaned my arm and fiddled with the cell-sampler thingy. "That's why no one can get in without a key. She's solid, through every dimension, so een advanced civilizations and particle weapons can't get in or damage her."

I tensed when the cold device pressed against my arm. There was a slight stinging sensation, but it wasn't as bad as a needle.

"The older the object, the more solid it is." The Doctor added. He removed the cell collector and plugged it into a slot in a nearby screen, which displayed what must've been my vital signs. "Like a heavier person leaving a deeper footprint. You can also make deeper prints the longer you stand in one place, like sinking into the mud over time." The Doctor smiled and I smiled back.

"What's the verdict, Dr. Doctor, am I clean?" I asked playfully, happy he was in a good mood.

"Cellular energy seems a bit low, but no cause for alarm, so long as we keep an eye on it." The Doctor wiped the place on my arm again and began rolling my sleeve back down. "But other than that, you're in perfect health."

Then he froze, having reached my wrist.

"What?" I asked, startled by his sudden change in demeanor.

He didn't answer, just pushed my sleeve back away from my wrist and shifted my thick bracelet aside, revealing the bruise hidden beneath.

The Doctor blanched. I had been on the TARDIS less than a week, but the bruise, which had been a disgusting shade of purple, had already faded to green. In another day or so, it would vanish altogether.

Damn it. I had been hiding it for a reason.

The Doctor remained quiet for a few long moments. Despite his hands being rough and calloused, his fingers brushed over the afflicted skin with surprising tenderness. He looked up slowly, face pale and drawn.

"Why didn't you say anything about this?" He asked hoarsely, blue eyes cloudy and unfocused.

"It's not a big deal," I shrugged. It really wasn't. I'd had worse bruises from playing with my brothers. They _definitely_ had gotten worse ones from playing with _me_.

"But I did this," he murmured, returning his attention to my wrist. He looked so devastated that I was sure my heart was about to break.

"It's nothing. Really," I insisted. "Just a little bruise."

"Call this little?" He asked bitterly, going back to stroking the damaged skin lightly. Then, to my surprise, this dark, intense version of the Doctor leaned down and pressed his lips softly against the bruise.

I wasn't sure why, but this sweet, simple gesture caught me completely off guard, making me extremely emotional to the point of tears. I took a quick breath to steady myself and chewed at the inside of my lip. He was being affectionate, so why was that upsetting?

The Doctor released my wrist and lifted his hands up to my face, where he then brushed aside my hair and examined the side of my neck. The memory of his hand closing roughly around my throat flashed through my head, but this time he was gentle, checking for more bruises.

Thankfully, the only bruises that had developed there had been small, just at the spots where his fingers had dug into my flesh. But they had been barely-there anyway and had vanished almost as quickly as they appeared.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor whispered, lowering his hands to his sides. "I am. I really, really am."

"I know," I said firmly. "It's okay. I mean it. It happens."

The Doctor nodded slowly but didn't look convinced. He just stood there, staring at the ground, looking defeated. He looked so miserable… I couldn't just let it slide.

"Oh, come here," I commanded, gently. I was taller than I usually was, sitting up on the table, almost tall enough to be face to face with the comparatively giant of a Time Lord. So it was easy to reach out, wrap my arms around his neck, and pull him into a warm hug.

The Doctor tensed, seemingly surprised, but gingerly wrapped his own arms around my back.

It was a loose, uncertain hug, and I was about to let go. But then I realized the Doctor was trembling. Just the slightest indiscriminate tremor, but I felt it through his leather-clad shoulders all the same. It was enough to worry me and, oddly enough, encourage me to tighten my grip on him instead of letting him go.

After a few long moments, my arms started to ache with effort. I was about to give up and release him from the 'rapidly turning awkward' embrace, when suddenly he reacted.

The Doctor's grip tightened into something that was nothing short of a bear hug. A tiny, pleased squeak forced its way out of my throat as the Doctor's strong arms crushed me into him while he buried his face into my neck. I responded by retightening my own hold on him and burrowing my face into his shoulder. And, gah, it was wonderful.

I'd forgotten how nice hugs could be. Not 'hurry come on we almost died' hugs, but warm 'just because we can' hugs. I hadn't really liked hugs in my old body, preferring not to be touched. This one was apparently more suited to contact. I hadn't exactly had the chance to experiment with this kind of physical contact over the past year and half, effectively being a hermit, and all. Well, there had been those handful of times I'd gone home with a guy… but that was more for the sake of experimentation, rather than enjoyment. And this was completely different anyway.

The Doctor's back hitched slightly as he took in a shaky breath. I nuzzled the Doctor's shoulder, breathing him in and rubbing soothing circles on his back, smiling when I felt some of the tension melt away as he relaxed into the embrace.

He smelled great, too. Like leather, of course, but having your face in a leather jacket tended to have that effect. But beyond that, was a sweet, spicy scent that distinctly reminded me of something. Chai tea, that was it. The Doctor smelled almost _exactly_ like a chai tea latte.

I stifled a giggle. It was a strange thing for a 'tough-guy' time travelling alien to smell like, but it suited him in more ways than I could imagine. Sweet and spicy, that was the Doctor.

After a few more blissful moments of this, the Doctor let go and took a step back. My heart fluttered at the sight of his soft, puppyish smile. Seeing him _really_ smile now made me realise how many of his smiles were fake. His fake ones were too wide, too broad, and showed too much teeth, which concerned me a bit, as that encompassed a lot of the goofy smiles that I liked. But his real ones were thinner, showed less teeth, but did something different to his eyes that said he was actually feeling happy.

I grinned back and opened my mouth to say something, but was interrupted when the entire room suddenly decided to lurch to the side.

A startled squawk ripped from my throat as I found myself flung off the medical table and onto the floor. Miraculously, I didn't hit my head or break anything.

"What the hell?" I gasped, nursing my elbow.

"Oh, Medbay Gravitational Localizers. Just somethin' else to fix," the Doctor groaned from where he was sprawled on the floor.

"What's that?" I complained, trying to pick myself up, which proved to be difficult considering the room was heaving.

"Stops the Medbay from lurchin' like that." He made it to his knees, gazing around the room with irritated surprise. "It'd be 'orrible if that happened if someone was being treated for a serious injury!"

"What does that have to do with this?" I landed hard on my butt as the floor practically shifted under my feet.

"Somethin's wrong!" The Doctor cried, leaping back to his feet. "Come on, console room!"

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	11. Stitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... uh... I forgot that I had fics on Ao3. Ive been updating this fic... just not here. I have 27 chapters of the story finished. 
> 
> So for the next 2 weeks I’ll be posting a chapter a day until I’m all caught up.
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> WARNINGS: LANGUAGE, PANIC ATTACK SYMPTOMS, MILD VIOLENCE

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_**Chapter Eleven: Stitches** _

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Getting to the console room was a mess. With the floor becoming the wall and the walls becoming the floor every few steps, it was a wonder we made it there at all.

Well, a wonder _I_ made it there at all. While I stumbled and flopped along the passage the Doctor darted through like the captain of a ship on stormy seas. He had his sea legs. Or 'TARDIS legs'. He seemed to anticipate the ship's movements as the corridor spun, taking it all in stride.

Obviously he made it to the console room before I did. By the time I got there he was dancing around the controls, bringing the sentient machine under some kind of control.

"It was just a program!" He protested, glaring up at the heaving glass center reproachfully.

"What is?" I shouted over the sounds of the TARDIS in flight, just managing to grab onto the railing as the room lurched sideways again. The bar I was holding onto slammed into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

"No! No!" The Doctor shouted again. Thankfully, the shout prompted me to hang onto the rail tighter, because then the room decided to turn _upside down._ "It was just supposed to be a scanner! Preemptive measures! Just as a test scan! I didn't mean to try to _take off on your own!_ "

I let out a frustrated growl and was slammed back into the floor. I wrapped my arms and legs around one of the vertical bars, determined to just cling on until this wild ride was over. Especially if he was just going to talk to the ship instead of explaining what was going on.

After another few minutes of this, the TARDIS gave one final lurch before landing with a thud that had my teeth rattling in their sockets. I released the bar I had been hanging onto with a groan, flopping back onto my butt. What would've happened if I hadn't hung onto the bar when the TARDIS turned upside down? Would I have hit the ceiling and just fallen straight back down when the ship righted herself?

I gazed up at the ceiling above my head. That would be an awfully hard fall.

"Alright there, Buff?" The Doctor called from somewhere on the other side of the console.

I grunted and used the railing to pull myself up onto my feet. "Yeah. You?"

"In one piece, as far as I can tell," The Time Lord said happily. When I made it to my feet I could see him over the edge of the console, evidently enraptured by whatever was on the monitor.

"What happened?" I asked as I padded over to him, rubbing my lower back ruefully.

Instead of answering, the Doctor motioned me over with a flick of his hand. I peered around his shoulder inquisitively at the diagram displayed on the screen. It sort of looked like a topographic map, except without any roads or trees. Or maybe a sonar reading of the bottom of the ocean.

At any rate, it was basically a bunch of blue lines and circles decorating a black surface, showing the texture and height differences between what looked like hills and valleys. On the surface, however, there were three other squiggly lines depicted in glowing white. I squinted at the lines, trying to figure out why they seemed so familiar. I knew I had seen them bef…

A sick feeling clumped at the bottom of my stomach. Ah. _Doctor Who_ again. I was looking at cracks in the universe.

To avoid having to explain why I knew that the cracks were… well… cracks… I asked, "Okay… so… what?"

"Those are tears," he explained, just like I expected him too. "An' not just any tears. Cos instead of being in paper or a bit of clothing, these are in the fabric of reality. In the skin of the universe."

"Okay," I acknowledged slowly, "But what does that have to do with the TARDIS going nuts?"

The Doctor looked rather sheepish. "Well, uh... " He scratched his head nervously. "I _was_ hoping we'd have a little more time to work on preparing an' practicing before looking into some actual stuff… but…"

I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to stop rambling.

"... but you see, I wanted to go ahead and start fiddlin' with a program to locate holes. Just a test run. Honest. I wasn't gonna try an' get you into it until we knew more about how you interact with extra dimensional forces, but the TARDIS must've gone and found a point."

"Get me into what?" I asked shakily. Crap. I knew there would be more to the medallion thing. My mind flashed back to the message Mirror Girl had left me… God, that felt like so long ago… she had a job for me, but hadn't said what it was.

"Remember what I said earlier about 'Stitching'?"

I nodded. At least it sounded kind of cool. Too cool for me to have much hope of doing a good job of it.

"Well, that's what this is." The Doctor pointed to the screen again, but turned to focus bright blue eyes on me. "Fixing the holes. I mean, that's not all you can do, but it's the most important thing."

I blinked up at him anxiously. "Can't the TARDIS do that? Fix the cracks?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Some of them, but not always. She's better at detecting them than the actual healing process."

"But how am _I_ supposed to do it?" I whined piteously.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," The Doctor dismissed as he paced back around the console, towards the door. "Have you got the manipulator?"

I chased after him. "You mean you don't know?" This was bad. Very bad.

"Not _exactly_ ," he sighed, striding outside confidently. "Can't know everything, can I? Not to mention that this is _your_ job. Not mine. Figure it out, stop naggin' me."

I stopped by his side in the late afternoon sunlight, not even paying any attention to where we were. Stuff like this should NOT be left up to me. Bad idea. Very bad idea. My head felt fuzzy. Exploring was one thing. Actually doing something important was another.

The Doctor crossed his arms and gazed out at the surroundings I was currently ignoring. The low angle of sunlight made his eyes seem brighter and paler than usual. After a moment of me not answering, he looked back down at me.

He sighed again, kinder this time with an air of begrudgingly giving in. "Alright. Tell you what. Get this done an' we'll explore China some. Then you can pick where we go next."

"China?" I echoed, startled. A quick glance around to see we were in some kind of village. Definitely not in what was my idea of 'modern times'. There were carts, animals, and people roaming around on the muddy street, making it crowded and busy. Down the street and between the buildings, I could just glimpse the glimmer of sunlight reflecting on the water of what appeared to be a harbor. Beyond the smells that a large number of people and animals caused, the smell of the sea reached my senses. "We're in China?"

"Yep," the Doctor confirmed, what I could swear was a smug grin creeping across his face. "Early seventeenth century. Near the South China Sea. Not exactly an alien planet, but it's worth a look."

"Yeah," I agreed, voice coming out as a quiet squeak. "Never been to China. Or the seventeenth century." Excitement prickled in my chest to mix with the terror.

I felt his chuckle reverberating through his arm. That's when I noticed that I had latched onto him again, which explained why he was being smug. He seemed pleased though, that the short little human kept clinging onto him whenever she was a bit overwhelmed.

"That's something we can fix," he replied cheekily, giving my arm a squeeze so I was pulled closer into his side. "But first we need to take care of these cracks, alright?"

"Okay," I said quietly. I had the distinct impression that he was bribing me. Like a little kid, even. 'Do your homework and smile at scary aunt Carol and we'll get ice cream afterwards'. But hey, seventeenth century China. "So… now what?"

"You tell me." The Doctor lifted his eyes again to scour our surroundings. "You could sense the distortions on the jungle planet. Cracks should have the same effect as interdimensional creatures. The walls between the dimensions aren't as thin here, but cracks should leave a larger footprint."

I nodded distractedly, forcing down panic and tying to figure out what exactly it was I was supposed to be so sensitive to. The distortions I'd seen before hadn't exactly made me feel all warm and fuzzy. They'd caused my hair to stand on end and locked me into a confusing battle between fight and flight responses. In other words, something I would much rather avoid, not go looking for.

But, here we were. The Doctor was here, and even though he was trying to be nice and supportive about it, I knew that he wasn't about to leave me with a choice.

So, I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Other than terrifying, how had the distortions felt?

Tingly. They made the hair on my arms stand on end and made my skin crawl with a sense of wrongness. Like something wasn't quite right with the world. Like when you walk into your house and find that your furniture has all been moved two inches to the left. Or when you're alone in a dark, empty house, but you can swear that someone's there, just around the corner. Just the sense that something's off, but you're not sure what.

I opened my eyes and looked up at the Doctor.

He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Got it?" I nodded and he grinned. "Right, then! Lead on."

_**~0~0~0~** _

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We wandered down narrow alleyways, turning corners on whims and trying to dodge the people our erratic path encouraged us to bump into. But I was pretty sure I was on the right track.

Well, I _thought_ I was.

Frustratingly enough, whatever impulse-signal thing I was following was in no way strong, constant, or easy to follow. I kept doubling back, losing the signal and getting turned around so often that I had just about convinced myself that it was all in my head and that there wasn't actually any kind of feed at all. There had been some mistake. I wasn't actually sensitive to this stuff at all and wouldn't be of any real help to the Doctor or anyone at all, for that matter.

The Doctor didn't seem concerned though, which gave me at least a small shred of comfort. In fact, the Time Lord looked quite relaxed, meandering around behind me lazily, exploring and enjoying the late afternoon sun while occasionally offering reassuring words every time I backtracked out of a dead end, flustered and confused.

And he _did_ have a point. I _was_ extremely new at this and we were 'both still learning how it all worked' so there was 'no need to get frustrated'. Despite that, I was getting more and more panicky with each passing second, so much that I was on the verge of tears by the time I actually managed to find what we were looking for.

The air around me was vibrating, and I wasn't sure if I should be scared or relieved. My eyes scanned the street corner uncertainly, trying to pick out the surroundings through the tumultuous haze that was so thick that I could hardly see the road and shops on the other side. It was like trying to look at stuff through someone else's glasses, more than that, it was like I had just been staring at one of those gifs that you were supposed to stare at for thirty seconds and then look at a still picture of swirls or Starry Night; the afterimages of the swirls distorting the rest of the world long after you'd stopped looking at them.

I squinted at the distorted mass, rapidly getting a headache but determined to not let the Doctor down. I was so absorbed in trying to find the most messed up section of the space in front of me that I didn't notice the Doctor coming up to loom behind me.

"What do you see?" The Time Lord's low voice rumbled softly into my ear, causing me to jump.

"Don't know," I admitted, unnerved and slightly embarrassed. "It's weird."

One of the Doctor's large hands rested heavily on my shoulder. "Think you've found it?"

"Maybe?" I said uncertainly.

"Fantastic!" The Doctor said cheerfully, circling around to stand at my side with one of his goofy grins. "Feel up to checking it out?"

The relief I felt at finding the damn thing vanished. Would it have really been so bad to just act like I wasn't sensitive to this stuff at all?

"I still don't understand what I'm supposed to do," I whined piteously.

"That's alright," The Doctor continued happily, clapping me on the back, clearly not at all affected by how frightened I was. Again. "Just have a go at it, have a good look, an' experiment a bit. Go on."

He ended by giving me a firm shove in the back, causing me to stumble forward into the distorted mass. My blossoming headache tripled in strength and I turned back to stare at the Doctor's distorted image.

The Time Lord stared back at me with a cool expression, eyes icy and blank as he waited for me to vanish with his arms crossed.

I fished the medallion out of my shirt shakily, feeling like a science experiment or a lab rat.

Stuck between a crack in the universe and a determined Time Lord… I really didn't have a choice, did I?

_**~0~0~0~** _

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_**~0~0~0~** _

The same jerk forward I had felt before yanked me through the cobweb-like substance and I found myself standing on the Otherside, feeling more lonely and lost than I had since I'd met the Doctor.

Because… I didn't really have much of a say in all this. I didn't want to be responsible for all of this. What would he do if I told him that?

I shivered against the cool fog and blinked back tears. As much as I wanted to believe the Doctor would be okay with me not wanting to 'stitch' or whatever… I honestly wasn't sure.

My headache still hadn't gone away, either, so that wasn't helping. Though I guess it gave me a reason other than being rejected by the only kind-of friend I had to close the crack.

The anomaly in question was sitting a few yards away, a bright scar carved into the screen that marked the edge of the universe.

You know, the thing I couldn't get to the last time because it was always the exact same distance away?

I let out a growl of frustration. How the hell was I supposed to fix something I couldn't even reach?

I tried walking towards it again, but quickly gave up, more in favor of keeping the Doctor's outline in sight. But now what?

My first instinct was to go back and ask the Doctor, but he'd already made it clear that he didn't know much about all of this. What if asking him again just annoyed him? No, I couldn't do that.

The Blank-Ghost of a person walked straight through me, the chill of it passing through sapped away the last of my resolve.

I flopped to the ground and drew my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and resting my chin on top, feeling utterly hopeless. The crack hovered a few yards away, mocking me with its blindingly white light that just seemed to eat and suck away the energy of everything around it.

I glared at it hatefully. The cracks weren't even supposed to be an issue until season 5, with the Eleventh Doctor. What was it even doing here? Better question: what was I even doing here? Was the crack here because of me? Or was I here because of it?

No good answer there.

And GOD… why ME?

Why not someone that was actually good at all of this? Someone like Rose Tyler, Martha, Donna, Amy, Rory, Clara, Bill, or even Mickey or Nardole, would be better at this than me. Hell… why not just assign this shit to a companion? And even if that wasn't an option for whatever reason, why not someone brave like them? An adrenaline junkie who was brave and took this kind of thing in stride? The Doctor met plenty of those in his travels.

I wasn't any of them. I wasn't anything like them. Not even close. Someone like them would be figuring out how to fix this, not wallowing on the ground in a side dimension because she wasn't sure how to even get to the problem, let alone fix it.

I reached for the medallion, pulling it off and letting it dangle in front of my face by its chain.

 _This_ is what made me 'special'. A piece of metal. All of the people the Doctor asked to travel with were special because they just were. They were brave and compassionate. People the Doctor wanted to have around him. But me?

He wanted me around because he had to. Because I showed up, knowing too much with this STUPID PIECE OF METAL. Is that what it would be like? The Doctor babysitting me until I was useful? Because I didn't want that. I doubted the Doctor did either. Babysitting a human for God-knows how long couldn't be fun. The Doctor didn't want or need those kinds of humans. He didn't like them. They only got in the way.

Would I get in the way? I hadn't really… _yet._ Though we hadn't actually gone anywhere too dangerous so far either. What would happen when we started going to REALLY dangerous places? Daleks and Cybermen and Slitheen?

The sick feeling that I hadn't felt in a while - the one that plagued me every minute of the fourteen months I'd spent in London - was back. I could picture it now, me screwing up and getting people killed… the Doctor snapping and telling me he was sick of looking after me… I was more trouble than I was worth… I couldn't take care of myself… didn't belong on the TARDIS… dump me back where he found me… all alone again…

I took a few shaky breaths, chewing on my thumb nail anxiously. I didn't want to be alone again. The very thought of the Doctor leaving me on the streets of London… the sound of the TARDIS dematerializing, echoing throughout the empty streets, was enough to make me light headed with fear.

What if he dumped me of where and when we last left Rose? Just pushed me out, stern scowl changing into a goofy smile as he welcomed Rose on board.

I gagged. That was one of the cruelest things I could imagine.

I bit my hand roughly, trying to snap myself out of it. I was being stupid again, right? The Doctor wasn't cruel. Not to simple humans, anyway. In fact, the only time I had seen this Doctor be cruel was to Cassandra, and even that wasn't a black and white situation.

Besides, we had been getting on pretty well so far, hadn't we? We'd had fun at the fair in San Francisco. And let's not forget the hug.

The image of the Doctor's soft smile replaced the cold, blank stare he'd fixed me with a few minutes before. He'd gotten visibly upset when he noticed the bruises and even tried to kiss them better.

I took a steadying breath and looked back at the Doctor's blank form. He was pacing now, from one side of the street to the other, hands shoved into his pockets, kicking at loose stones while he waited for me to come back.

The frightened and empty ache in my chest eased somewhat. The Doctor was nice. Too nice to leave me behind like that. I had to remember that even though he was real now, that he was still the person I'd admired on tv. He was still the Doctor. No matter what.

It was stupid of me to think I would get used to it, adapt like Jack said. I just wasn't cut out for all this. I needed to make my peace with that. But, if I only had to listen to one thing Jack had said, it was that the Doctor seemed to care for me. I mean, I hadn't known the Doctor for long, but I was pretty sure I could count him as a friend… my only friend, actually…

I took one last, deep breath and stood up shakily. I had to solve this pretty quickly, before the Doctor got too worried. He would probably blame himself if he thought something had happened to me. God knows he blamed himself for enough as it was.

So. First problem. How do I get to the edge?

I drew a blank and started chewing on my fingernails again, shivering as another blank person passed through me.

Problem solving. I could do that. I'd done it before in… you know… math problems and stuff. I'd done it for sci-fi things too.

What was the first part of problem solving?

Alright. What all did I know?

I was on the edge of the universe.

I was trying to get to the very edge, which I could see.

The edge of the universe moved with me, which meant it was everywhere at the exact same time.

That made sense (sort of) because the edge is a dimensional thing instead of a physical one.

I had a manipulator thing.

The manipulator responded to impulse-ish commands.

The manipulator was a dimension handle-thing.

So if it was a handle that I could use… then maybe…

I tightened my grip on the medallion and thought hard.

I wanted to get to the edge… did the manipulator know what the edge was?

I stared at the impenetrable gray wall of mist. That's where I wanted to go. I wanted it to stay still so I could walk over to it.

For a few seconds, it didn't seem like anything changed. But the red jewel was glowing brightly at the center of the golden circle, so I figured that it was doing something.

I took one step, then another, and another, towards the edge. For a moment, I didn't notice a difference. But then I noticed I was definitely getting closer.

My chest swelled with elation. I was doing it. I'd figured something out on my own. So what if I was thinking like a little kid that had just figured out how to ride a bike? I was moving through dimensions TO THE END OF THE UNIVERSE. How many companions could say that?

Then I was there, gazing into the misty grey void. Only inches away, the fringes of the veil tingled at my cheeks. I reached out tentatively, curiosity overcoming fear, and brushed my fingers through the fog.

Instead of parting around my hand, the veil stood firm and my fingers vanished into it like they'd never existed at all. It didn't feel like anything. I'd never been in a sensory deprivation chamber, but I was pretty sure that's what it would feel like. Just a bunch of nothing. I might as well have not had a hand attached to me. What hand? No hands here. Never any hands here.

I blinked at the spot where my appendage had been and pulled my hand away, relieved when all the fingers reappeared where they were supposed to be.

Blank space. I shuddered. The edge of the universe really was the edge of the universe. It was so surreal, like a cartoon character walking into the emptiness of a blank page. Just… nothing.

I glanced a few feet to my right, where the crack hovered at head height. Even its blinding light couldn't light up the emptiness around it.

I hardly noticed my feet moving as I stepped closer to the crack, but suddenly it was right in front of me. Unlike the veil, the crack pulsated heat and energy. It felt _alive_. A single, giant eye peering out at me from an ocean of nothing.

Should I touch it?

My fingers wiggled inches away from the gash.

Rory was absorbed by a crack in the universe, and then he never existed. The soldiers at the Byzantium went into the light, and the same thing happened to them. Not to mention the angels, and very nearly the Doctor…

Maybe not. I pulled my hand away.

Now what? I had to… fix it? How do you fix a crack in the universe?

Things I know:

9\. What I was doing was called 'Stitching'.

Great. How did I do that? It could just be a fancy title. You'd expect that from people that called themselves 'Time Lords'. Or it could refer to one of the other abilities that the Doctor had mentioned.

Whatever it was called, I wasn't getting any closer to fixing it standing here. Assumingly it would have something to do with the medallion.

I turned the object in question over in my hands for what felt like the millionth time today. I nibbled at my fingernails again before holding the medallion out to the crack.

The crack came to life. Light reached out from it, reaching for the medallion and my hand.

The light lapped at my hand like white fire, but it didn't burn. Tendrils of light seeped out, wrapping up and around my forearm. Seeing that I thought it was going to pull me inside and make it so I never existed, you'd have thought I would've tried to pull away. But common sense was never my forte. I stood there, frozen with terrified fascination as the light seemed to consider me for a moment, tasting me like a snake would taste the air.

Then it recoiled, all of the strings of light retreating back into the crack. All except one. One of them attached itself to the red jewel.

I stared at the medallion in breathless wonder. The whole thing had lit up. The jewel was glowing, many times brighter than I had seen it do before. The gold part had come to life as well; the previously still designs were spinning around each other like clockwork.

Apparently I had done something right.

Right. Stitching.

Evidently I had a thread. And the medallion was a needle.

So…

I lifted the medallion up to the top of the crack and the thread followed. When the manipulator came into contact with the veil directly above the crack, there was a whirring sound, like a drill. When the sound stopped, I withdrew the object to see that the thread had been embedded into the veil.

Exactly like sewing… well… with dimensions and the skin of the universe. But I continued, despite how strange it seemed.

The thread of light stretched as I continued to use it, not thinning or weakening in any way as it got longer for my needs.

In no time at all, I had the thread zigzagged across the crack. Did I need to tighten it? How did I do that?

At the thought, the medallion started spinning again, like some kind of crank.

My heart was pounding excitedly as the thread started tightening, and, slowly but surely, the crack began to close.

When the gash was within inches of being pulled together completely, I chanced a glance back at where the Doctor had been. The Time Lord Blank was standing near where I had last seen him, but there was something different about his posture. The relaxed aura he had been giving off fifteenish minutes ago was gone, replaced by the 'alert dog' one that I had seen before.

I glanced around nervously, trying to figure out what was bothering him. The other Current-Blanks were responding to whatever was happening as well, but unlike the Doctor's composed attention, they were dashing about in a panic, streaming around the Time Lord like a river would around a rock.

What were they running from?

A half second later, I had my answer. Other people were dashing down the street, except they obviously were _not_ running away from something. And they had swords. Not to mention they were swinging them, too.

"Doctor!" The Time Lord's name ripped from my throat when one of the sword-bearing people took a swing at him.

The Doctor dodged the blow easily. I tore my eyes away from the struggle and back to the crack. It was almost closed, but I didn't have time to finish. I had to help the Doctor. I doubted he would leave the street without me, but there was no way he could hold off the attackers for long.

"Let go!" I spat at the medallion, tugging at it desperately. I needed it to get back to the other side. "Come on! No! Wait! Not like that!"

Instead of just releasing the thread like I wanted, it started unthreading itself, each individual stitch snapping out of place, tearing the veil surrounding it.

And it kept tearing, ripping the crack out of its stereotypical shape, shredding the edges and making it even wider than before.

I turned just in time to see the Doctor get hit with the hilt of one of the swords. He stumbled, stunned just enough for two of the Blank people to haul him away.

"Doctor!" I shouted again, redoubling my efforts to free the medallion from the thread. I was so desperate to follow after my friend that I hardly noticed the now tattered crack continue to widen. Didn't register the deep, rumbling creaks and snaps as the surrounding veil began to shatter.

Then the thread snapped, most of it just falling away to be reabsorbed by the crack, but the remaining few inches seemed to get sucked into the medallion.

I figured that was probably bad, but honestly it was the least of my concerns at the moment.

Deep feelings of horror settled in my heart at the sight of the crack. Before it had been only a foot wide and about five feet long, but now it was almost tripled in height and must've been somewhere around fifteen feet long with other cracks spider-webbing off of it like damaged glass.

But I couldn't worry about that now. I had to find the Doctor.

I spun around and dashed away from the edge of the universe.

I was so preoccupied by thoughts of something happening to the Doctor that I barely registered the tug of being yanked back across the dimensions… or the resonating snarl emanating from the crack behind me as I jumped away.

Rocks and dirt scattered everywhere as my feet scrambled for traction on the side of the street. Usually I might've worried about a bystander seeing me and panicking about the girl that appeared out of thin air, but right now that was probably the least attention grabbing thing to be happening on this particular street at the moment.

Everything was on fire. The buildings. The carts. Even some of the people. People were running, screaming and begging as they were chased and harassed by the sword bearing people I had seen before. Except they weren't Blank anymore. They were dirty with rotten teeth and long, dingy beards.

Through all the noise and chaos, the distinct sound of footsteps running up front behind me reached my ears. The last thought I had before everything went black was ' _pirates'._

_**~0~0~0~** _


	12. The Pirate Queen - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until I’m caught up with all the chapters I’ve already written.
> 
> WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS. DEATH. LANGUAGE

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Twelve: The Pirate Queen** _

_**Part One** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_We ran through the thick jungle. Vines and thorns tore at my face and clothes. I was sweating from the heat of the sun even though it was so dark I could just barely see the backs of the people running in front of me._

_My mom made it into the house first. It looked like it always had, in the middle of a lawn that was equal parts grass and gravel, small and brown with a wide front porch._

_My brothers were in the house next, followed by my dad. Then me. Just before the maggot faced people. I slammed the door in their faces and turned back around, not at all concerned now that I was home. Home was safe._

_The inside was different, though. It was an empty wooden room. I mean, it could've been a house. Just a big empty one that was definitely not mine. The most noteworthy details were the big windows lining the wall in front of me, the one opposite the door I had just come through. Two half triangle windows above three rectangle ones. Beyond them was only jungle, dark and impenetrable._

_I turned to ask my mom about what happened to our house. Had we remodeled or moved? Or did someone else live here? But she and the rest of my family were nowhere to be seen._

_The Doctor was there through, weirdly close and looming. His blue eyes glittered, every bit as dark and foreboding as the forest outside._

_Wordlessly, he started shoving me towards the door. Not the plain one I'd come in, but another one that I hadn't noticed before, just off to the side of the windows. They were white like the doors on the inside of the TARDIS._

_I tried to fight him. Tried to explain that there were monsters outside that would kill us both if we opened the doors. Told him that I could see their maggot-dripping faces snapping at the window, ready to slice me up and eat me. But my words were jumbled up beyond any form of coherence. And even if they did make sense, I didn't think he was listening anyway._

_All I could do was stare in horror as I was pushed past the TARDIS doors and into the darkness of an empty street._

_I stumbled onto the asphalt, skinning my hands even though I couldn't feel it._

_A splash of pink breezed past me and I turned to see Rose bounding into the TARDIS with a huge grin on her sinisterly beautiful face. The Doctor greeted her like an old friend._

_I tried to protest from my place on the ground, but they couldn't hear me. After a few moments, they turned to give me similarly annoyed looks. Fear gripped my heart as their unnaturally flawless faces melted away like wax, revealing the rotten gore and maggots that festered beneath._

_Despite my own terror and revulsion, I pleaded with them to stay. Begged them not to go or to at least bring me with them._

_They left anyway._

_Loneliness and grief ached in my chest as the TARDIS wheezed its way out of existence. I looked about the foggy street, blinded by the harsh orange street lights and deafened by the pattering of far-away raindrops._

_Maybe if I made my face decay like them, they'd come back for me._

_Before I could ponder this notion further, a roar shattered the deafening quiet. The same sound of animalistic fury that I'd heard coming from the crack on the Otherside…_

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

I woke with a start and instantly regretted it as a wave of seasickness washed over me. A barely audible groan squeezed out from my lungs and I managed to sit up despite the fact that my head felt like it weighed eighty pounds.

I had been on a boat plenty of times, but I'd never gotten seasick before. Sure, I'd gotten carsick. That happened all the time, especially when I had to ride in the back. But seasick? Never.

Though, to be fair, I'd never been on a boat this long either. Not to mention that I was not on a boat. I was on a ship. A big one with rigging and sails and whatever. A proper ship.

Maybe the reason I'd never gotten seasick before was because on all the boats I'd been on before, I had always been on the deck. Open air. Healthy ocean breeze to wash away all the sickness and nausea and dizziness and other people's waste and vomit.

Yeah. Open air made a difference.

There was no open air where I was, in the belly of a large full on pirate ship. Locked in a cell, no less. With ten other people. God, the smell.

I finished wriggling my way upright, bracing my back against the splintering wood. The place was dark and damp. Basically what you'd expect in a pirate ship brig. The only source of light was what leaked in from the hatch, which naturally was the only way in or out of the wretched place. Via a ladder.

There were three cells in the brig. As far as I could tell, the thirtyish of us were separated into groups; the men, the ones that could be ransomed or sold, and those that would be released at an opportune moment. The Captain of the ship thought I was from a wealthy Portuguese or English family due to my complexion and strange clothing. I wasn't about to argue. At least then I'd be kept alive until the Doctor could find me. Until then, I was condemned to sit and rot in the cell closest to the hatch.

There were worse fates, I supposed.

Everything was quiet. Unnaturally quiet, now that I thought about it. Nighttime was usually subdued, but not like this. Normally you'd have your healthy combination of snoring, sniffling, crying, begging, and maybe even the occasional laugh. But not tonight. Tonight everyone seemed to be collectively holding their breaths. Except me, left out of the loop, as per usual.

Not wanting to be left out, I quieted my breathing and strained my ears, trying to figure out what everyone was NOT talking about.

For a moment, all I could hear was the creaking of the ship, the steady lapping of the waves at the hull, and the distant flap of sails, but then, a low growl.

My blood froze.

When I was coming back from the Otherside, I'd heard a growling noise coming from somewhere behind me, but I had convinced myself that it was just my imagination. But then the same sound kept recurring in frequent nightmares I'd had since.

It was a very distinct sound. Sort of a mix between dog and something you'd hear in Jurassic Park; from one of the raptors or the T-Rex. Unearthly and unfamiliar, rumbling from a cavernous chest.

Apparently it had crawled out of my nightmares to haunt me in the other nightmare — real life.

It was here.

One of the people cowering in the shadows to my left let out a frightened whimper as the growling grew in volume.

Then, footsteps. Not human footsteps. Definitely not human footsteps. It was too big… had too many legs to be human.

_Thump scratch thumpthumpthump swishscratch._

I clamped my hand over my mouth to muffle my breathing.

Something was in the shadows. Just on the other side of the cell bars. Near the far wall, on the opposite side of the slice of moonlight streaming in from the open hatch.

It moved.

A flash of a leathery flank. Rolling, wiry muscles. A leg that bent at an unnatural angle, tipped with curved claws longer than my hand.

I widened my eyes, begging them to adjust to the darkness. I could just barely make it out, a shape slinking against the far wall. It was bear sized and hunched over, walking on at least four legs, if not more.

Then it had moved around to the other side of the room, too far to the left for me to see from my place in the cell. The Doctor or one of his companions might have moved to the front of the cell and try to keep it in sight.

Not me though. I just pressed myself against the ship's wall and tried to make myself as small as possible. I wasn't going any closer or doing anything to make myself noticed. Hell no. Not at night. Not in the dark. And definitely not when I was the one being caged. No sir. Nuh-uh.

So I just sat there like the rest of the prisoners. Quiet, barely daring to draw breath. Waiting for daylight.

Minutes felt like hours, years or even centuries, but the suffocating silence remained, only broken by the occasional muffled sob or the scratching of the creature moving around.

Screams shattered the atmosphere, frantic cries of pain, terror, and confusion drowned out the creature's roars.

Then it was silent again.

Dead silent. The creature slowly made its way back in front of the bars, close enough for me to see the six legs, leather skin, and long, dripping teeth.

It brushed by my cell on its way out, sending waves of dizziness and a sense of wrongness crashing into me.

Maybe it wasn't seasickness after all.

The creature vanished in a flash of light, like it had simply walked out through an invisible door.

And it was gone. Was that what it looked like when I went to the Otherside?

Wait.

Crap.

It was FROM the Otherside. So every time I went there, I would be in its territory.

I choked back a sob and listened as the people around me did the same. Whimpers of fear filled the room as we all waited for sunrise.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The Doctor glowered at the man holding him captive impassively. It didn't matter that he was tied to a chair, he was always the most commanding presence in the room, and the young Imperial Officer was starting to understand that.

The guard shuffled his feet, feeling more and more uncomfortable with the man he was guarding by the moment. It wasn't that guarding prisoners made him anxious, or even that this particular man he was guarding now was being particularly threatening. Despite the fact that the prisoner, who called himself 'the Doctor', was a rather large and imposing man, he wasn't making threats, just sat there looking bored and impatient.

Honestly it would probably be easier if he WAS shouting threats… or begging to be released… or… _something._ He'd been unconscious when he was first brought in, and since then he had only asked where he was and why he was tied up.

Since then, he'd been quiet and staring, and that had been hours ago.

It was his eyes that unsettled him, the guard decided. Large, calm, and unnaturally blue. The Doctor gave off some kind of aura as well. Whether it was the air of a superior officer or mass murderer, the guard really wasn't sure.

"How much longer?" The Doctor asked suddenly, startling his guard. "I have a friend I need to get back to."

"The Captain will be here shortly," was all the guard said, straightening his back to cover up for his skittishness.

"Yeah, you've said that," the Doctor complained. "You've been saying that for the last four hours. Where is this Captain of yours, then? Off walking the plank? This isn't a big ship and we're at sail, so what's so important that a man can't take the time to 'ave an innocent man released?"

"Matters of government, I'm afraid," a new voice cut in.

The Doctor glanced up to see a tall man of impressive stature with glittering eyes stride into the small room.

"The Captain, I presume," the Doctor addressed him, squaring his shoulders to match the newcomer.

"Yes," the newcomer said flatly. He opened his mouth to continue but the Doctor cut him off.

"Yes, fascinating, I'm sure," the Doctor growled. "But if it's all the same to you, I'd really like to get going. I have this friend, you see. She's not from around here and now she's on her own."

The Captain bristled at being interrupted. "You are suspected of conspiring with pirates! If I were you, I would be more concerned about my own safety."

The Doctor's eyes blazed, making the guard flinch at his spot by the door. "Except you've got no evidence. That's why you've been holding me this long." The Doctor saw the annoyed look on the Captain's face and knew he was right. "So if you don't mind, untie me and we can discuss this properly."

The Captain held his gaze for a moment, but then nodded to the guard to cut the bonds.

Once his hands were free the Doctor stood and stretched. "Now then, how far away are we from where you lot picked me up?"

"You aren't asking the questions here!"

The Doctor whipped around to face him, his face a terrifying mask of rage. "I don't bloody _care!_ " The Doctor spat, spittle flying. "You lot put her in danger when you captured me! And I know you only did _that_ because you couldn't stop the raid on the city _or_ capture any actual pirates!" His voice lowered but lost none of its energy. Hands now free, the Doctor could fish out his psychic paper and shove it in the Captain's face. "So it would be in your best interest to cooperate with me."

The Captain blanched even though his expression didn't change. "Sorry for the mix up, Admiral, we had no idea you were Portuguese Navy."

The Doctor looked at the paper in mild surprise before snapping it closed and stuffing it back in his jacket. "No real harm done. Just help me get back to my friend and we'll call it even."

The Captain nodded uncertainly as the Doctor stared to pace. "We were passing near Macau when we noticed ships bearing the pirate insignia entering a nearby port," he rattled off in a militaristic fashion. "That was six hours ago. We have orders to continue on our patrol. We'll pass back by Macau in three days."

"Three days?" The Doctor exclaimed, crossing over to the small window that sat midway up the wooden wall and gazing out at the water beyond. Beyond the stormy blue he could just make out a sliver of the coast. "You just said we left around six hours ago! Can't we just turn back?"

"We will not change route to drop off a passenger," the Captain snapped. He blinked at the Doctor's angry posture before trying to backtrack. "I'm sorry, Admiral, but surely you must understand the extent of the threat the Red Flag fleet poses. Even the joint efforts of our Navies has not been enough."

The Doctor whipped around to face him. "Wait. The Red Flag Fleet? Portuguese and Chinese Navies working together? What year is this? Wait, let me guess. Sometime between 1809 and 1810, right?"

Before the bewildered Captain could answer any of the agitated Time Lord's questions, the Doctor switched tracks again.

The Doctor massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "What about by land? How long would it take me to get back to Macau by foot?"

"A week, at least."

The Doctor walked back over to the window, resting his hands on either side of the glass. He nodded at the Captain distractedly when the man left, promising that the Doctor could stay on board until they passed Macau again.

Finally alone, the Doctor let out a frustrated groan, resting his forehead defeatedly against the cool glass.

Three days. Buffy would be alone for three bloody days. And that was if she hadn't wandered off or gotten captured.

A rock settled in the pit of his stomach at the thought. It was his fault. If something happened to her…

He gave his head a quick shake.

She had still been in an extra dimensional state when he saw her last. Well, maybe he couldn't _see_ her but… that was the last place that he had known her to be.

Did she even know what had happened to him? Or did she just reappear and find him gone? Would she think he had abandoned her? Or worse, she had noticed, and come out during the raid?

The Doctor fiddled with his psychic paper thoughtfully. He could probably use it to send a message to her phone.

The Doctor palmed his forehead in annoyance. He hadn't upgraded her phone yet. There was no way she would get a signal.

Well, _hopefully_ Buffy wouldn't have come out during the raid and, having nothing better to do, would just stay near the TARDIS.

That made him feel a little better. The TARDIS could take care of her until he got back.

No.

The Doctor slammed his forehead against the glass with a frustrated groan.

She didn't have a key.

Three days. She would have to fend for herself for three days.

Three days outside of the TARDIS without food or shelter.

A myriad of horrible things that could happen to a young woman on the streets raced through his head, making him sick to the stomach.

The Doctor gave his head another shake before striding out of the small cabin, looking for things to keep his mind busy or, better yet, things that might speed up the journey.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	13. The Pirate Queen - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until I’m caught up with what I have written.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: ATTEMPTED SEXUAL ASSAULT, VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS, SYMPTOMS OF PANIC ATTACK

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Thirteen: The Pirate Queen** _

_**Part Two** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

No one dared to speak until sunlight poured in through the hatch and the general raucous of the ship's crew began to compete with the constant thundering of the sea.

"What was it?" A frightened woman was the first to break the hush. She was short and squat with shiny black hair and gorgeous brown eyes that were wide with fear. "Did anyone get a good look at it? What did it do?"

"It ate Chen!" The shaky voice of a man responded from the cell the furthest down. "It's mouth unhinged like a snake!"

"Is it coming back?" Someone else cried.

The room exploded with frightened wails and voices clamoring over each other with plans of escape, prayers, and the usual 'we're all going to die'.

I was doing something along those lines too, but in my head, and instead of praying I was mentally pleading with the Doctor to hurry up and find me. He would fix this… he could fix this so long as he was here. But he wasn't here. We were at sea. My phone was long gone, having been accidentally dropped in the water when I was being dragged on board.

Sure, he could probably find me in the end… but that could very easily be a long time away.

I would probably be dead by then.

I shuddered and buried my head in my hands. Just couldn't catch a break, could I? I had a feeling that the creature was only here because I was. It was after me. My fault.

A hand rested on my shoulder, causing me to jump. I looked up to see the pretty girl with the beautiful eyes that had tried to establish order a minute ago.

She smiled at me reassuringly. "We'll be alright, yeah?"

"Yeah," I agreed half-heartedly, brushing my hair out of my eyes. No one had really spoken to me since I'd been brought on board. I was too much of an outsider, all foreign-looking with strange hair and clothes. "Sure we will."

She settled down beside me. "I'm Pei-Pei, by the way." Her oval shaped face shone like the moon, full of a vitality that I wasn't sure I'd seen before in anybody else.

"Buffy." A slight blush rose to my cheeks and I combed my fingers through my hair a little nervously.

"Funny name," she giggled. "I like it. Where are you from?"

"England." Pei-Pei had a very calming presence. I found myself relaxing slightly. "Well, sort of."

Pei-Pei's eyes lit up with curiosity. "I've heard of that place, but I've never been." She brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. "I grew up in Macau. My uncle is a businessman there. I was on my way home when…" She trailed off miserably, beautiful eyes downcast for a moment before she forced another smile. "What were you doing here? You're a long way from home."

I shrugged. "Traveling with a friend of mine. I lost him when I was captured." I frowned as the image of the Doctor getting hit in the head and dragged off flashed through my mind. "I hope he's okay."

"I'm sure he will be." Pei-Pei grabbed my hand and squeezed it comfortingly before reaching up to examine a lock of my hair. "You have the most interesting hair."

"What, because it's red?" I laughed, my cheeks turning hot again.

"Yes. But it's purple too. How can you have purple hair?" She had found a few strands of purple that were poking out from underneath the red.

"I dyed it," I explained simply.

"Like you dye cloth?" She frowned and ran a finger along the split ends. "Why would you do that? Is the red dye too?"

"Because I like it." I laughed at her expression. "And the red is normal, I just added the purple."

"Oh." She dropped the strands and settled back on her heels. "Do the girls all dye their hair where you're from?"

"Sometimes," I replied vaguely. They didn't in this time period as far as I knew, but explaining that I was a time traveler was out of the question. "I just wanted to look different."

"Is that why you wear strange clothes?" She asked eagerly. "To be different?"

I grinned. "Sort of."

Pei-Pei seemed satisfied with my answer. "What do you think that thing was?" She asked softly. The other people were starting to quiet down now, so it was probably important to not get them started again.

"No idea." Well, I had an idea, but it wasn't one I could share with her. "Some kind of sea monster or something?"

She nodded in agreement. "My uncle always told me tales of monsters in these waters, but I never believed them. Guess I'll have one of my own to tell when I get back."

"My friend's like that," I agreed. "Always telling stories that are so weird you don't believe them." A wave of worry washed over me. "What are they going to do to us? The pirates, I mean."

"You don't know? Oh, I guess you wouldn't, would you?" Pei-Pei leaned back against the wood and stretched her legs out in front of her. "This is a ship of the Red Flag Fleet. They practically own these waters. Hundreds of ships, if not more. They think they can make a profit off of us, so they'll either ask for our ransom, or sell us."

"What happens if they can't?"

"They let the ugly women go, usually. The ones they can't sell or ransom."

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. "Sell us? What gives them the right to do that? I'm not for sale!" I already knew why, but it didn't make me feel any better. Not in the 21st century any more, Buffy.

Pei-Pei shrugged as if she hadn't really put much thought into it. "That's how it is."

"So we just sit and wait?"

"Yep."

"And those are our only options?" The medallion was cold against my left breast. Somehow I had managed to slip it into my bra in the chaos of being captured. When they had searched me for valuables, they hadn't thought to check there.

Pei-Pei furrowed her brow. "What other option is there?"

I shrugged. It was a long shot. Besides, I might be able to get out of the cell, but we were still on a ship in - as far as I knew - the middle of the ocean. So if I got out, what then?

Pei-Pei drew her own conclusions. Her pretty eyes widened. "You mean _escape_?" She hissed.

I shrugged again. "Just an idea," I whispered back. "Beats sitting here for God knows how long."

"A couple of weeks at most," she said reassuringly, reaching out to pat my hand. "That's all they will keep us here. Any longer and we will be a waste of supplies."

"And then what?" I challenged, keeping my voice down. "What if we don't get a ransom? I don't know about you, but sold into a brothel or whatever is _not_ something I'd like to do. I mean… some girls want to do that line of work and… I mean… that's okay… if that's what they want… good for them… you know. But I… I don't…"

Pei-Pei nodded understandingly. "It is much easier to escape a brothel than it is a ship at sea."

"Yeah, you're right," I relented shakily. "Of course you are. I just REALLY don't like the idea of being here much longer. Especially with that THING."

"I agree." Pei-Pei glanced around thoughtfully. "When the pirates bring food, we will try to convince them that something is here. They'll post guards overnight. We'll be safe then."

But unfortunately, as per-freaking-usual, luck was NOT on our side. As much as all thirtyish of us begged, pleaded, and wailed, the guards wouldn't budge. We were desperate, they said, not worth the effort. Nothing could get on a ship several miles out to sea. There were night guards on the upper deck, and they would've seen if something had boarded. There was no such thing as sea monsters.

They didn't even notice that one of us, Chen, I believe, was missing.

God, we were so screwed.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The Doctor was worried.

Well, of course he was. He'd been worried for the last five days, but now it was worse than ever.

True to their word, the Imperial ship had taken him back to Macau after three days at sea.

The Doctor was getting more and more anxious as time wore on. Upon returning to the TARDIS, he had scoured the TARDIS interior and the area around where he had last seen his young friend for any indication of what had happened to her.

No luck.

No one had seen her, no matter who he'd asked.

He'd tried calling her and tried to track her phone.

Another dead end.

Next, he set up a TARDIS scan that sought out extra dimensional disturbances. It worked, but only within a ten mile radius. Extra Dimensional forces were fickle things. But at least it was something.

Much to his dismay, the crack had gotten bigger. He swallowed hard and hoped that the change didn't have anything to do with Buffy's disappearance.

But that was two days ago.

He left a note on the TARDIS door on his way out, just like he had done every other time he left Time Ship, purposefully written in English so as to decrease the probability of some random passerby understanding it.

It read:

**Buffy,**

**Key's behind the fake phone.**

**Be back soon.**

The Doctor considered going farther in his search, out of Macau and maybe even into the ocean, but he decided that, for the time being, that course of action was risky. Buffy could still be nearby, looking for him the same way he was looking for her. And in theory, she knew where the TARDIS was. So if she happened to come back by to look for him, he would still be here, waiting. The best course of action when two people were looking for the other was to stay in one place, especially when you're in a very memorable spot.

Unless the other was in a position that prevented them from coming back.

The Doctor grumbled to himself in frustration and kicked at loose stones as he set off down the street. What if she was in trouble and couldn't come back? She could be dying and he was just SITTING THERE.

The Time Lord decided that he would give her a few more days before he extended his search. A few more days for her to find the TARDIS.

And for the time being, that was pretty much all he could do. Wait, scan, and ask.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

It came again that night.

None of us dared breathe, let alone sleep, as the angle of the stream of light pouring in through changed slowly, becoming narrower and fainter until it vanished altogether before the pale light of the moon crept in to take its place.

When the ship was silent and the crew more or less asleep, it came. Chillingly familiar unearthly growls tumbled through the still, musky air as it crept along the edges of the room.

I screwed my eyes shut, hoping that it was just my imagination.

It almost worked, too. I had myself half convinced that this was all just an EXTREMELY vivid nightmare. But all that went to shit when I was hit by a wave of hot breath.

My eyes snapped open on instinct and I immediately regretted it.

About two feet from my face, a mouthful of long needle-like fangs seemed to hover in the darkness, dripping long strings of saliva.

Once again, on instinct, I brought my left hand up slowly to slip up my shirt. The cold medal of the medallion froze against my palm, but I hardly noticed.

The creature snarled and lunged.

My instinct kicked in for a third time, and I brought up my hand, the one clutching the medallion, hitting the monster on the underside of its jaw with the lump of golden medal.

I wasn't a very strong person, but the beast staggered sideways with the force of the impact. It snarled, shook its head to clear it, and launched itself at another woman with a dull roar.

The woman cried out in terror as the thing seemingly unhinged its jaws and dropped its mouth down over her head, gripping her tightly in its mouth before tossing its head back, swallowing the woman whole.

Within moments, it was over. A twitching pair of feet sliding down the creatures throat and out of sight, and she was gone. I swear I could still hear her muffled cries echoing out from inside the creature.

With a satisfied grumble, the monster slunk back through the door, appearing to melt through it like the bars weren't even there.

It vanished into the shadows, the only evidence of it having ever existed were the devastated cries of those in its wake.

Pei-Pei let out a whimper and flung her arms around my neck. She was trembling, practically crawling into my lap. Terrified, or so I thought.

"We need weapons," my friend hissed in my ear, not at all sounding as shaken as she appeared. "You said you could escape. Do you think you could really do it?"

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

I crept along the walls of the ship. Only staying in the Otherside as much as I had too.

After explaining the 'magic' medallion to Pei-Pei, she had sat in front of me, acting as a shield to keep the others from noticing my vanishing act.

From there, I quickly found out that the 'footprint' thing the Doctor had talked about… how the amount of time an object stayed in one place had a direct correlation with how solid it appeared to me in the Otherside… was very VERY true. Because I almost immediately found myself sinking through the floor of the ship, it not being solid enough to actually stand on.

After a few seconds of blind panic, I managed to claw my way onto the correct level and somehow command the manipulator to make the floor solid. Don't ask me how, because I don't have the faintest clue, but the whole place just seemed to… highlight… itself. Literally, it started glowing a yellow-gold color like someone had highlighted it with a yellow marker.

I filed that under 'things to ask the Doctor about later' and moved on. But I didn't trust the glowing floor at all, so I was staying out of the Otherside as much as I dared. Not to mention that it was hard to pick out individual details when you're looking at them through the void.

I found a weapons locker pretty quickly. After a few minutes deliberation, I picked out a handful of knives out of the cluttered mess of shaft edges and metal. We needed small weapons that could easily be hidden during the day.

Within five minutes, I was back in the brig.

"How did you do that?" One man asked as I slipped a few blades to him through the bars. His eyes were wide in awe, causing a blush to rise to my cheeks and pride to flutter in my chest.

I was _good_ at something.

I flashed a cocky smile and winked at him, taking a leaf out of the Doctor's book. "I'm clever."

"Thank you." He smiled back and passed the blades out, keeping one for himself. "When that _thing_ comes back, we'll be ready."

I should've just counted that as a victory and gotten back in my cell with Pei-Pei, but me being me, I made the stupid decision and tried to push my luck.

Pei-Pei caught my eyes as I turned to go back out of the brig again. Although she seemed pleased, she shook her head in disapproval.

I shrugged back at her and smiled. More knives meant that more people could defend themselves, right?

Though I wouldn't mention it out loud, part of the reason why I wanted to go back was because it felt good. Not just the breath-of-fresh-air feeling that came with rebelling against the pirates that had kept me locked up for days and days, but the sense of purpose. I hadn't had one of those in a long time. No purpose. No ability. No skill. No direction. I wasn't cut out for all the dangerous stuff the Doctor did, but I could sure as hell steal knives.

I should've listened to Pei-Pei.

"What do we have here?" A voice drawled.

I spun around from where I had been sorting through the weapons locker, accidentally dropping the knife I had been fingering in favor of gripping the medallion tightly with both hands, about to slip away back into the Otherside.

But my treasured object was torn away roughly before I could use it. I distinctly remember the sound it made as it clattered on the wooden boards somewhere to my right.

My breath caught in my chest as I lifted my eyes to meet those of another. They were dark eyes, like Pei-Pei's, but without any of her vitality or warmth.

"An escaped prisoner, eh?" His grimy, clawlike hand held my forearm in a vice grip. I tried to pull away, feeling for the medallion with my foot, not daring to take my eyes off of him.

"Uh, no no…" I whined plaintively, still trying to free myself from his grasp.

"Don't be afraid," the man cooed, baring a set of grimy teeth in a disgusting grin. His eyes flitted down to my chest. "Not gonna hurt you. Wouldn't want to do that now would I? Not at all what I want."

Although his words, if said by someone else, might've been reassuring, his tone suggested something else entirely. Something that disgusted me while simultaneously setting off a reaction of icy fear and boiling wrath.

As soon as the words left his lips, I instantly changed tactics and, instead of trying to pull back and away, I launched myself at him.

My head rammed savagely into the underside of his chin, causing him to loosen his grip enough for me to yank my arm free. Still in close proximity, I brought my knee up as hard as I could into his groin. He let out a pained gasp and collapsed forward, clutching whatever was left of his crushed balls.

I lunged under a nearby cabinet, where I was certain the medallion was. I scrabbled under the wood structure frantically, kicking up dust and getting splinters in my fingers.

The sound of the man struggling to get to his knees reached my ears just as I spotted the manipulator shining dully in the gloom.

My hand reached out for it, only to fall short as another set of hands locked around my hips and dragged me back out from under the cabinet, farther away from salvation.

As soon as I was free from the crawl space, I whipped around violently on the ground like a crocodile in a death roll. I kicked at the person trying to hold my legs and dimly noticed that it was not the same person as before.

I had almost kicked him away when two more sets of hands came down, pinning my arms to either side, effectively trapping me.

I looked at them wildly, still struggling. My anger was gone, or at least shifted. One man was easy, but three…

I swallowed nervously and suddenly realized that getting caught after escaping wasn't nearly as bad as whatever these perverted apes had in store.

So I screamed. Not for anyone in particular, cause in this case I wasn't picky, just a long, drawn out shriek that was abruptly muffled by a large hand clamping over my mouth.

"She's a tough one, isn't she?" The man covering my mouth and holding my right arm commented to the one holding my left, who happened to be the person that first attacked me. "Though you already knew that didn't you? Found out the hard way. Sure your tools are still up for the job?"

"Mind your own business." The first guy glowered at the second guy as he changed his grip so that his knee pinned my shoulder to the ground.

"Alright, as long as — ARRGH!" The man with his hand over my mouth let out a shout of pain when I sank my teeth into his palm.

I tasted blood and dirt but hung on with all I had, but was shocked into letting go when a sharp blow connected with the side of my face.

"Stupid bitch!" The guy I had bitten shouted angrily. I managed to let out another shout before the first man from earlier forced a rag in place of the hand. "Switch places with me!"

I redoubled my efforts to free myself when the man I had bitten switched places with the one holding my legs, but I was tiring, so it didn't do much good.

Though I managed to land a few good kicks, all I could do was watch in horror as the bitten guy started trying to work my jeans down with momentous effort.

But apparently they didn't even want me to do that. The third guy's hand pressed down on my throat, effectively cutting off my air supply.

Stars and dark spots exploded in my vision while my movements weakened and drums pounded in my ears. But through the din came another sound.

More voices.

Surprised and angry voices.

Suddenly I was free.

I rolled over onto my hands and knees, coughing and sputtering. It was a moment before I could at least sort of understand what was going on, but I knew enough to stay on the floor.

Other pirates, better dressed and in brightly colored silks, were restraining my three attackers.

"What's going on here?" The one dressed in dark blue demanded, stringy mustache wiggling as he spoke. "You know the code! You know the punishment!"

The three men practically crumpled to the ground, much to the distaste of the higher ranking pirates.

While they were distracted, I stretched out under the cabinet, quickly snagging the medallion and shoving it down my jeans.

"— but what's the rush? We will meet with the flag ship in less than two days," blue silk guy continued. A cruel smile crept its way onto his features. "I'm sure the Fleet Commander would enjoy being included."

The three men were dragged off, leaving me, blue silk, and a guy wearing mostly red in the armory.

I tried to look up at blue silk, tears clouding my vision. "Than—".

"Say no more," blue silk snapped. "You appear to have escaped—".

"No…"

"— and there could be punishment for that, as well."

"I didn't," I sobbed. "Please you have to—".

"You have made your statement," He snipped imperiously, "but it's best to be certain." He nodded to the red guy, who grabbed me by my upper arms and started steering me out onto the main deck, back towards the brig.

I was shoved roughly into the room that I had spent so much time in. In contrast to my attitude the last time I had been in there, I wasn't much more than a teary, sniveling mess.

The attitude in the room was different too. Everyone was so quiet and solemn.

"This girl was found in the armory," blue silk announced to the room. "Would anyone happen to know how that happened?"

Silence.

You could've heard a pin drop, even on the uneven, soggy wood.

I noticed that Pei-Pei was watching me carefully. Subtly, I held out three fingers against my leg, hoping she would understand.

"They came and got her out of the cell! Three men!" Pei-Pei shouted, jumping to her feet and staring the pirate down, eyes ablaze. She turned to the other prisoners. "Didn't they?"

There was a mass murmur of agreement. Despite my tears, a warm feeling flickered in my chest. I had helped them, so they were going to help me.

Point made, Pei-Pei dropped back down to my side and wrapped her arms around me, petting my hair soothingly while I clung to her like she was the only thing keeping me from fading away.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The next day a guard unlocked the door to our cell.

"Which one's Pei-Pei?" The pirate demanded, baring a set of rotten teeth as he spoke.

Pei-Pei unlooped her arm from around me and stood shakily. "That's me."

The guard nodded. "Come. Your ransom has been agreed upon."

"Oh!" She gasped in astonishment, turning to look at me with wide eyes. Her dark, gorgeous eyes brightened significantly until they rivaled the stars in shine. But when those two dazzling orbs met mine, they darkened again.

"Hey! You're going home!" I tried, putting more energy into my words than I actually felt. She was the only friend I had in this place, one of the only ones I had in this universe. And she was leaving me. Not to say that I wasn't happy for her, cause I really REALLY was, but after the events of yesterday, the prospect of being without a friend was unappealing to say in the least. "Lucky, lucky, lucky." I grinned at her happily, but couldn't stop the tears from gathering.

"I am." A slightly hysterical laugh bubbled up on her voice. Then her face crumpled. "And you're not."

The guard made an impatient noise before trying to snag onto her arm to drag her out. She yanked it away, giving the man a poisonous look.

"Not yet," I insisted as nonchalantly as I could. "The Doctor'll find me sooner or later. Just a matter of time."

The guard made another grab for her arm, and this time she couldn't pull away.

"Tell you what," I called after her as she was hauled out of the cell. I ran to the bars to keep her in sight. "If you see him, the Doctor… weird guy with a leather jacket… or the TARDIS!... Big blue box…"

"I'll tell him!" She promised as she was dragged up the ladder.

And she was gone.

I was alone again.

I sank to the floor, ignoring the way the splintering wood dug into my knees, clutching the rusty bars with all my strength while I fought back the tears that were begging to fall. I was tired of crying.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	14. The Pirate Queen - Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until I’ve caught up with what I already have written.
> 
> WARNINGS: DEATH. LANGUAGE. PANIC ATTACK SYMPTOMS.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Fourteen: The Pirate Queen** _

_**Part Three** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

" _Ouch!" Charlie cried, grasping his arm, already starting to tear up._

_He was five years younger and half a head shorter than me, but he could already out-arm wrestle me and could beat me in a dash between the orchard and the creek by a solid three seconds._

_So why was he crying?_

" _What happened?" Mom demanded, striding over purposefully as the tears began streaming down._

" _She hit me!"_

_Yes? We were using sticks as swords._

" _You know you're not supposed to hit!" Her voice went up an octave in accusation._

" _He hit me first!"_

_Because he got mad that I didn't want to be a princess for him to rescue. The other little girls at school would do it, so why wouldn't I?_

" _You're older than he is! So you should know better!"_

_I wanted to be the dragon. Or a Jedi._

_But instead I got grounded._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

I'd always liked the ocean. My family used to go to Florida every summer - in theory they still did, just without me - but I'd always loved it. The salty, fishy smell and the unpredictable freedom of the waves. The freedom of being out on a boat or watching a storm rage off at sea.

I was reminded about that love now as the strong ocean winds smacked me in the face as I was brought onto the deck. I took a deep breath of sea spray and blinked against the harsh sunlight. Even the fishy smell was refreshing after days and days below deck in the dark. For a second, I was back on one of those sunset-dolphin tours my dad always insisted we went on every summer vacation.

That second went by far too soon.

One of the pirates gave me a rough shove in the back, causing me to stagger slightly. The deck was packed with the ship's crew, all stinking in a festering meat sort of way in the scorching sun. Rotten teeth and union-y B.O. ruined the otherwise pleasant ocean day.

The pirates parted like the Red Sea for me and the and the guy that was herding me, muttering amongst themselves as they gawked at my frightened and cowering form.

Once at the edge of the vessel, after a split second of panic as the thought of having to walk the plank flashed through my head, I understood where we were going. Instead of gazing down at deceptively calm waters, I was looking across onto the deck of another ship. The new ship that flanked the one I'd spent however many days on board was bigger and more impressive in every way, from the sleek, broad deck to the glorious red sails that spiked and furled menacingly in the breeze like a great dragon perched on a small island.

I wish Pei-Pei was here. I'm shit on my own.

Or the Doctor.

Especially the Doctor.

If the Doctor were here, I probably wouldn't be in this situation to begin with.

Or maybe I would, and he'd be in it right beside me. At least I wouldn't be alone.

What situation was I in, anyway? Pei-Pei had gone on about something or another about pirates and regulations and restrictions and whatever, but I had been too frazzled to really listen.

The ghost sensations of the men clawing at my clothes, pinning me to the floor, and cutting off my air crawled all over me, making me shiver despite the hot air.

Was that what this was about? Was I in trouble? Or were they?

There were a bunch of jumbled puzzle pieces in my head; more than enough to complete the picture or to at least draw my own conclusions as to what the image was supposed to be. But my head was swimming with bright light and the gnawing hunger that had been slowly setting in over the past few days, leaving me grasping at the tidbits of information like wisps of smoke.

"Go on," the man behind me grunted, giving me a none too gentle prod in the center of my back.

I swallowed and edged closer to the railing. Several boards had been lain side by side, either end of each balancing on the corresponding rails of the two ships, forming a makeshift bridge.

"You wa—"

"Go!" He snapped again.

I was reminded of how short I was in this body as I climbed up onto the makeshift bridge. I could barely get my leg high enough to hoist myself up, and then when I did manage to crawl up onto the planks I felt very small indeed, gazing down into the watery depths below.

"Are you going or not?"

I took a deep, albeit shaky, breath and forced myself to stand. The sea was relatively calm, but the ships were still rolling gently as the sea heaved underneath them.

I had terrible balance.

I repeated that as a sort of morbid mantra in my head as I wobbled across the plank bridge. _Terrible balance. Horrible. Bad bad balance_.

I didn't look down and I didn't fall. Suddenly a set of hands reached up to offer assistance.

I took them. They belonged to the man in blue silk, the high ranking guy that had (sort of) saved me two nights before. As stingy as he seemed, he was the closest I had to a friend right now. At least he wasn't against me.

No, definitely not against me. When I dared a glance up into his face, I saw that he was smiling. It wasn't a smile that made me feel better in any way, but it was a smile nevertheless. At least his teeth were in decent condition.

"Come now," he half ordered, half suggested, like I had a choice, gesturing towards the upper section of the deck. I took a step in the direction he indicated but was slowed when he grabbed me by the arm and, under the pretense of escorting me, pulled me close so as to whisper on my ear. "Do you know what's expected of you?"

I stumbled a step when all the blood seemingly left my legs. I was supposed to _do something? Expectations? Fuck._

"No," I whined back, keeping my voice low but unable to stop the babble. "I have no fucking clue what's happening and—"

He silenced me with a soft hiss. "No matter. Bow when I bow and do everything she says."

"Who's she?"

"Shh! And when she asks you to confirm the crime, agree." That slimy smile of his was back, and it added to the nervousness churning in my stomach.

"What?"

"All you have to say is 'yes'. Confirm and you will be rewarded."

"Conf— What?"

Bluesilk-Guy's eyes flickered up to the set of wooden stairs that we were fast approaching. "I need her favor and she likes demonstrations. I figured you would be agreeable. No sense in waiting. Agree?"

I was still overwhelmed to the point that everything was sailing over my head, but I nodded anyway.

"Good. Just do that… nod when she asks. That's all you have to do… nod."

I opened my mouth to protest, but we were up the stairs and onto the upper section of the deck. Several very important looking people were lined up before me, though none looked more important or intimidating than the woman at their center.

She sat on her velvet chair like a goddess, dark silken hair pinned up elegantly behind her moonlike face, a few stray strands glittering in the sunlight as they were stirred by the salty breeze.

I shivered in the warm air as she turned her gaze, scouring me with dark, quick, and clever eyes that lacked any form of warmth or compassion.

Yeah, Head Bitch in Charge if I ever saw one.

Bluesilk-Guy thought the same. He bowed low and it took me a second to remember that I was supposed to bow too.

"Ching Shih," Blue-Silk greeted, talking into his knees.

"Zhong Shun Chow," Ching Shih returned formally. "Are we ready to proceed?"

"Yes, we are."

"Is this the girl?" Ching Shih asked, scanning me one more with those all-seeing eyes of hers. She wasn't all that much older than me, probably in her early to mid thirties, but I felt like I was at the feet of an old reverend queen all the same.

"Yes," Zhong Shun Chow confirmed, much to Ching Shih's displeasure.

"I assume she can speak for herself," she warned before turning her attention back to me. "Come, child, sit with me."

I did as she indicated, sliding down to my knees just to the left of her chair.

"What is your name?" She inquired, watching me in a manner that may have been interpreted as friendly if her eyes weren't so cold.

"Buffy," I managed to say. I had no idea where to look. In the US and England, I knew that it was generally considered polite to make eye contact with the person speaking to you. I also knew that that wasn't always the case in every culture, and I couldn't remember any of the tidbits of information that I'd googled over the years about etiquette across cultures. The last thing I wanted to do was piss her off.

"Where are you from, Buffy?"

"Uhh, England." I settled for staring at her shoulder. Better to be a little submissive than challenging.

"You are a long way from home, then."

"Yes, very." I chanced a quick glance up at her face and was surprised to see a glimmer of amusement flickering across it.

"What are you doing all the way out here, then? You speak our language very beautifully for someone that did not grow up speaking it."

"I was travelling with a friend. But I got separated from him." I carefully avoided the language thing. I certainly couldn't tell her the truth and really didn't believe that I could lie to her at any rate.

Several people were being walked, or dragged, up the same stairs I had been guided up moments before. They were struggling and begging, but I didn't dare give them more than a glance.

"I look forward to hearing more about your travels," Ching Shih said passively before turning her attention to the three people that had been brought before her. She began speaking, but I was too bewildered to listen.

Instead of being useful, my brain decided to recall the "Hoist the Colors" song from _Pirates of the Caribbean._

_~The King and his men~_

_~Stole the Queen from her bed~_

I chanced a glance up, and what I saw didn't immediately click in my brain. There were the three eerily familiar looking people on their knees. A few feet to the right of them was a tall and rather imposing man with a wicked looking blade. Beyond that, down the stairs, I could see an assortment of ragged pirates that were packed on the deck like a bunch of sardines, and beyond that, the wind ruffled up deep blue waves that almost matched the shade of the TARDIS.

_~And bound her in her bones~_

I focused on that color, finding some comfort in it. It reminded me that the Doctor did still exist and that he was hopefully nearby looking for me. I wanted nothing more than to see that wonderful color on wood again.

_~The Seas be ours~_

Ching Shih turned to address me again. I saw her mouth move and heard the tell-tale tone of a question, but my mind didn't register what she was saying.

_~And by the powers~_

I hadn't really put two and two together yet, why I was in this situation and why the men in front of me were familiar. But I did what Zhong Shun Chow told me.

TARDIS blue on wood.

I nodded.

There was a color on wood, but it wasn't TARDIS blue. It was red.

_~Where we will, we'll roam~_

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

Pei-Pei was going to keep her promise.

She was going to find the man called 'the Doctor'.

Her family said that there was no point in it. One man… that might not even exist… in a sea of thousands. But she was going to do it anyway.

The only problem was that she had no idea where to start.

Buffy had said that he was a man wearing a leather coat; that he talked strangely and had ears and eyes to match. But most importantly, he had a large blue box.

 _But what kind of box?_ Pei-Pei wondered as she wandered the streets of Macau aimlessly. She figured that the city was the best place to start, seeing as both she and Buffy had been captured at the same time. _There are many blue boxes. This is a trading port._

Because how big is 'big', exactly? A large box could mean a few feet tall or one of the large shipping containers that could fit any quantity of goods.

She sighed and decided not to overthink it. Surely if Buffy thought it was important enough of a detail to mention, she would know it when she saw it.

Just as she was finishing that thought, She caught a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye. She turned towards it skeptically, not having seen it a few moments before.

But now that she had seen it, it was there. A big, unmistakeable, bizarre box that was definitely wooden and even more definitely blue.

 _That's weird_ , Pei-Pei thought. Weird enough to be what she was looking for. So she marched straight over to the bizarre structure and knocked.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_The fuzzy patchwork screen flashed a movie that I wouldn't remember._

_But I would recall the bugs that danced about in the projector's light._

_And the way the cool contrast of bright and dark melted together. How you could see the silhouettes of the cars and people._

_A car radio that was always way too loud._

_The Stars always shone so brightly at the drive in._

_Not many people lived in this area of the mountains._

_You could see the Milky Way in a way I never thought possible._

_So many and so far away._

_So many places I would never touch._

_The lightning bugs in the trees winked in agreement._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

"Keep your arm up! It wastes time, bringing your arm back into the center after a block."

I sidestepped Ching Shih's swing and managed to parry another. I knew she was being deliberately slow, but I was still pleased at my own ability. I'd never used any form of weapon before, even if it was just a wooden practice sword.

Believe it or not, after the trauma that occurred when I first stepped foot on Ching Shih's ship (I was actively refusing to acknowledge that it happened at all) my life was actually starting to look up again.

How did it get to the point where I wasn't absolutely terrified of and cursing my very existence?

Fangirling.

I'm fucking serious.

Turns out, I actually had read a good bit on my new friend/mentor Ching Shih, because she was a motherfucking ex-prostitute pirate warlord who was actually real and existed in my universe too.

The only reason I had looked her up a few years ago was because there was a _Pirates of the Caribbean_ character based on her, which also kind-of-sort-of explained why my subconscious had decided to resort to a song related to the franchise when I first met her.

Naturally, once I realized that I knew about her and how freaking awesome she was, I got excited. Then add on all the nasty adrenalin and emotional rollercoaster I'd been on the last few weeks, and I was super duper excited.

Ching Shih, like everyone else in this universe and the next, really likes it when people know and adore her. Not to mention that she was impressed by my botched telling of the run in the Doctor and I had with the Natives of whatever planet that was (Simplified as some Island a storm pushed our 'ship' up on) and included all the violent deaths (Ching Shih especially liked the beheadings), she decided to take me under her wing.

Halle-fucking-lullah.

I'd been living with her on her ship for nearly a week now, mostly just being her personal assistant, fetching, carrying, delivering messages, and whatnot. It wasn't half bad, either. Ching Shih was actually much nicer once she was away from all the people she needed to maintain an image in front of. She was still terrifying, of course, but nice. Sort of like the Doctor.

But anyway, somewhere around day three she decided that I needed to learn how to protect myself. I'd told her about traveling (not the space-time version of it, obviously), and she'd agreed that I needed some form of self defense training.

It was going pretty well. I mean, I got whacked pretty good with an oversized stick a few times, but after that I started getting the hang of it quite nicely.

'Enough to be dangerous if one's not expecting it,' Ching Shih said.

I soon discovered that I had great reflexes in this body. Small and quick as I was, I was extremely proficient at getting around an opponent's arm for a few quick jabs before dodging away to a safe distance.

A natural with a short blade, as my new mentor soon discovered, stepping away, rubbing her ribs ruefully with a pleased smile.

Not gonna lie, I was a little disturbed at just how fast I was able to pick all this stuff up. Two one hour sessions, and I was already comfortable with holding a real blade in my hand. It _did_ feel natural… like I'd been doing it my whole life. I hadn't, though. In my old universe I could barely hold a kitchen knife without the fear of accidentally cutting myself. It seemed a bit strange to me, but I decided to let it slide.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_The house was small and the walls were thin._

_And my parents were really, really loud._

_I tried to shut the door to block out their constant shouting, but a seven year old Charlie and a five year old Geordie got in the way._

_They were both crying. The room they shared was right next to the living room, so it was so much harder to ignore._

_I couldn't just leave them, crying in the hallway as they were._

_I let them in and shut the door before turning on the tv and turning up the volume as loud as it would go._

" _See him?" I said to Geordie, pointing to the guy dressed in yellow with a visor. "You're named after him. It was my idea."_

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

"Ship to port!"

"Hoist the colors!"

I strode out to the ship's railing, enjoying the feel of the wind buffeting against my face. There was a general clamor of the crew rushing about, doing whatever it was they did when preparing for an unidentified ship.

I could see the object in question, no more than a dark splotch bobbing halfway between me and the horizon.

The first mate, who I recognized as Lo Fung, materialized beside me with a spyglass, which he held up to one eye.

"Is it coming this way?" I asked, tugging at my new set of clothes somewhat uncomfortably.

At first, the change of clothes had been welcome after days and days of being stuck in the same old ones. They were a tad bit uncomfortable though, making me miss my T-shirts and jeans. Not that I was going to complain. Seventeenth century Chinese pirate garb was awesome; so I was happy to endure feeling a little smothered as long as I could keep wearing the dark, layered fabric covered with a series of intricate gold designs. I even had a pirate hat. A LEGIT pirate hat.

Lo Fung nodded. He was one of the few crew mates that I was on speaking terms with. "It's on an intercept course, but…"

He went silent for a moment, causing a feeling of foreboding to wash over me. "What?"

"It's strange," he began thoughtfully, still peering through the spyglass. "It's one of ours."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"The colors are raised." He lowered the spyglass. "But I don't see anyone on board."

"What, no one?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Nope. No movement at all." He passed me the spyglass. "Here, you look."

I took up the object and held it up so I could look through it as he had. It took me a second to locate the far off object, but when I did, I was surprised.

The ship was still and silent, like a ghost ship. Usually you had crew roaming about on deck, messing around on the rigging or just loitering because being below deck wasn't always pleasant.

More than that, a wave of nausea washed over me.

I lowered the spyglass momentarily, blinking to clear my vision before raising it again.

No, my first observation had been correct. The ship was still and empty, but it was vibrating. Wavering in a manner that was more than just the typical illusion you could expect from looking at something from a distance. It was _thrumming_ with energy. And I knew what kind of energy it was.

"Do you remember the ship that brought me here?" I asked my companion, the sense of wrongness increasing its hold the closer the vessel creeped.

"Yes," Lo Fung provided. "Why?"

"Is that it?" I passed Lo Fung back the spyglass.

After a moment's more observation, he nodded. "Yeah that's it. Though I don't see why that's important."

"Because… it _is_ empty." _And I think I know why._

Something in my tone must've made Lo Fung nervous, because he shivered before saying, "I'd better report this to the Captain."

"No," I cut in. "She's resting. I'll tell her."

My feet carried me back to the cabin of their own accord. My heart pounded in my throat, downing out the sound of the crew and the sea.

"Captain?" I called into the darkness of the cabin, which Ching Shih and I shared. She had a bunk, and I slept on a thick mat on the floor.

"Hmm?" Came the sleepy reply. She usually dozed this time of day, preferring to be up and about in the earliest parts of the morning and then sunset to midnight. Noon to mid afternoon was naptime.

"A ship's been spotted, and it's on an intercept."

"Which is it?" She asked, sounding a little more awake.

"One of ours, except there's no sign of a crew."

"Oh?" Movement in the back of the room suggested that she was getting up. "You're certain?"

"Pretty sure. If they're on board, they're not on deck."

"Tell whoever's on the helm to make for it. Full sails."

I bowed slightly before haring off to do what she said.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_I was home alone. And I was fine with that._

_I had a day off of school, but mom and dad had to work. Charlie and Geordie went to stay with grandma. They were too little to stay on their own and I wasn't old enough to watch them both all day._

_I was old enough to stay home alone._

_And I was fine with that._

_My dad's footsteps cluttered around the house. I recognized his walking pattern._

_Quick right step. Slow left step._

_The stepping stopped for more than thirty seconds._

_I checked out the window and saw his truck was gone. Then I checked the time._

_Dad left over two hours ago._

_I was home alone._

_And I wasn't fine with that._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

About an hour and a half later, some of the crew had been sent over in the life boats (they weren't actually called that, but my pirate vocabulary was somewhat lacking) to board the abandoned vessel.

They soon had it under control and it was brought alongside. By then, Ching Shih had dressed and was leaning against the railing, quick eyes surveying the flanking ship and the surrounding sea.

"How could it just be empty?" She asked, mostly to herself after receiving the scouts' report. "No signs of struggle or boarding. Just gone."

"Could they not just have… abandoned ship?" Lo Fung offered.

"Unlikely," Ching Shih snapped. She wasn't going to explain why it was unlikely, and we didn't need her to.

No sign of struggle. Not a thing out of place. Just gone.

I tried telling myself that it couldn't have been the monster that had been harassing the prisoners when I was on board. Yes, the creature could come and go without a trace… but it took people violently. If it was the cause of the disappearance of the crew, there would've been a fight.

Right?

The deep unsettled feeling in my gut was not helping to convince me.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_Twelfth round of Train Dominos, and grandpa hadn't won once._

_We both had one left, and it was my turn before him._

" _Can't go," I lied. "I'll have to draw."_

_I plucked a domino from the pile and shrugged. A little blue train was placed on my line of dominos._

_Grandpa placed his last domino at the end of my train, matching one set of three pink dots with another._

_He was so happy about it._

_I buried my last domino in the pile before anyone saw the three pink dots on it._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

With the ghost ship assigned a skeleton crew, the two vessels made way side by side across suspiciously calm waters, bound for some kind of secret cove or whatever, Ching Shih didn't explain and I wasn't about to ask since she didn't seem to be in a sharing mood. By and large, we were going to a sort of meeting place for her fleet. With several hundred ships at her command, it made sense to have some sort of headquarters.

Throughout my entire week on Ching Shih's ship, I hadn't gotten sea sick once.

But guess what?

Now I was.

"You're even more jumpy than usual," Ching Shih commented, making me flinch for the second time in thirty seconds, the first being after she'd set her bottle of rum down a little harder than usual.

I looked up from the silk vest I was darning, nearly pricking myself with the needle in the process. Fixing the little holes and worn spots in her clothes was one of my duties. And yes, I know how to sew (thanks, grandma).

Ching Shih was peering at me from over the rim of her bottle, dark eyes glittering in the candle light. Her long, straight hair shifted around her face, flowing freely like a living thing now that she'd let it down from the tight knot she usually kept it in. In the low light, she radiated power and a sly energy that I would associate with the most cunning of the Slytherin.

I shrugged and went back to my needle and thread, but Ching Shih wasn't finished with me yet.

"Does the abandoned vessel have you spooked?" She inquired. I wasn't sure if the concern on her face was feigned or not.

"Kind of, I guess," I responded, not looking up from the cloth.

She snorted in amusement. "Strange things happen on the water, child. Best get used to it."

"Yeah, I know." Not just on the ocean. Everywhere is weird. But I knew better than to challenge her statement. "I'm working on it."

Ching Shih stood and stretched, abandoning the scrolls she had been pouring over in favor of ambling over to check on my progress.

She had just leaned down to snatch up the cloth when a scream sliced through the air. Brief, sharp, and plainly terrified.

Then silence.

Ching Shih and I stared at each other for a brief second, and then she sprung into action, bounding out the cabin door and snatching up her scabbard on the way.

I stayed where I was, only getting to my feet and backing up against the wall.

Please. Please. Please.

Don't be what I think it is.

More shouts of confusion reached my ears, adding to the general clatter of footsteps and the blood pounding in my ears.

My stomach tossed and turned. My skin tingled and the fine hairs on my arms stood on end.

Darkness was creeping in; shadows stretching and eating at the small comfort the single flickering candle provided as it swayed in response to a otherwise undetectable gust of air.

I screwed my eyes shut and tried to make myself small.

For a moment, there was nothing. Just the creaking of the woodwork and the distorted voices of the crew.

A gust of hot, sickeningly sweet air assaulted my nostrils, and I could feel every individual hair on my head flutter in response.

It was here for me.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

" _No! You don't have to kill it!"_

_My dad paused, broom in hand, poised to bring it down on the tiny brown mouse he had cornered between the dog bed and the fireplace._

" _What else am I supposed to do with it?" He complained, before turning back to the small creature._

_But, oops._

_The lapse in attention was all it needed._

_The mouse slipped away under the cupboards, never to be seen again._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

I opened my eyes and stared into the creature's face. It was eyeless and earless, covered with a black leathery skin that stretched across its basketball sized skull.

Smaller than I imagined. So how did —

It's mouth opened, jaws unhinging to reveal long, dripping teeth.

— it swallow the people.

I wasn't afraid. I was too afraid to be afraid. My mind had stopped working, stopped processing what it was seeing. I might as well have been watching it on Netflix. Man, _Stranger Things_ had really upped its quality.

The door to the cabin banged back open. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ching Shih freeze in the doorway.

She was much braver than me. Her second reflex was to draw her sword and lunge across the room to bury the polished steel into the creature's back.

It roared more out of anger than in pain. It swiped at the Pirate Queen with one of its middle legs, sending her crashing against the far wall.

And like that, the spell was broken.

My muscles unfreezed, allowing me to lunge under the monster's jaws and make it out into the center of the room.

Out of either luck or instinct, I ended up beside Ching Shih's table. There was a large knife there, sticking into the wood.

My hand found the leather wrapped handle and I freed it from the wood with two tugs.

Which was one tug too many.

It was on me again, one of the front two legs on either side of me, pinning me to the desk. It's jaws opened wide above my head.

The cold metal around my neck burned hot, causing the room to chill and become virtually nonexistent.

The echo of the floor solidified before I could sink too far into it but I didn't give it much thought. The creature was still on top of me.

Then it wasn't.

I heard its scream of agony, but couldn't find a reason as to why. I rolled over onto my side to watch it try to stagger clumsily away. It only made it about five feet before it collapsed, revealing the large knife handle jutting from its throat.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_Why was I crying?_

_I wasn't hurt, sad, or particularly upset. I mean, I was a_ little _upset, but certainly not enough to cry. Honestly, I was more irritated than anything._

_I hadn't seen the other car pulling around the corner. It was just a dent. We had insurance, my parents weren't angry. No big deal._

_But the tears kept coming, and the lady in the other car was giving me sappy looks of pity._

_Pity that I didn't want. Pity I didn't_ need. _Pity that offended me more than anything. I'd made a mistake. It was a human thing to do and I wasn't all that upset about it._

_But, for whatever reason, the tears wouldn't stop._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

Sobs wracked my body, but I couldn't really place why. I was numb, not upset. I guess maybe it was because my heart was beating so frantically that the rest of my body figured that I couldn't _not_ be upset about something.

Too bad my brain was out of that loop. The brain would've told the tear ducts that we weren't upset. In fact, it would've said that we were watching a creature from hell take its last shuddering breaths with a kind of horrified fascination.

The creature twitched once, twice, and went still forever. I watched it's dark blood seeping out into the surrounding yellow-tinged fog.

I hid my face in my hands, trying to block everything out, trying to either feel _something_ or feel nothing at all. I would be able to deal with one extreme of another, but the emotional limbo I was currently residing in was eating me alive.

Did I feel guilty? Or sad? Or happy?

Well, I was alive. Alive was good. Alive was happy.

I peeked out between my fingers at the dead creature.

No, I wasn't happy. I'd never killed anything before. It wasn't something to be happy about.

Curious. I was curious. _That_ I could focus on. It was an alien creature that I had never seen before. Even more than that, it was dead enough to be safe.

I swallowed my trailing sobs and scrubbed the moisture from my eyes before standing up shakily to go over and kneel by the dead thing.

It wasn't as big I as thought it had been, just the size of a small bear. It had six legs, two in the front and back like any four legged animal plus two more that came jutting out of each side like some sort of insect.

Braver than I might normally be, I cautiously reached out and rested a hand on its flank. It was soft and smooth, like a cheap leather handbag.

I shuddered and drew my hand back like it had been burnt. Gross.

Now determined to keep my hands to myself, I scooted around to take another look at the head. There wasn't really anything new to note about it except the bloody knife handle that was sticking out from its neck.

Without thinking, I reached out and took hold of the knife. The blood was cold and sticky, making my hand slip a little as I slowly pulled the knife out with a squelch that at one point would've made me gag.

The knife in total was about as long as my forearm; half blade, half handle, it made for a medium length knife. The blade itself was almost black with blood, but I could see it's basic shape; slightly thinner at the hilt than it was at the tip. It had the barest hint of a curve and instead of being tipped with the usual point, the tip was angled and slightly squarish, giving the impression that someone had cut the end off using a straight edge.

With a trembling hand, I wiped the knife off on my shirt. The fabric was dark, so as soon as the blood was off the knife it was easy to forget that there was blood on the shirt. It wouldn't stain.

I flinched when the creature moved again. Thankfully, the movement wasn't the result of it suddenly coming back to life. But the creature was deteriorating before my eyes. It crumpled and shrunk in on itself before finally melting away into the fog as some kind of inter dimensional dust.

I tucked the knife into my belt and settled back into a sitting position, wiping my hands off on my shirt as well before scrubbing at my eyes with the heel of my hands.

Tired. I was tired. Tired from crying. Tired from fighting. Tired from being on a pirate ship for three weeks of my life.

I leaned back, fully intending to just lay down and take a nap, but ended up bumping my head against something solid.

Solid.

_Solid._

Coldness seeped into my shoulders like I was leaned up against a giant block of ice. It was big, frozen, and _solid._

I barely dared to turn my head around; barely dared to breathe, let alone _hope_.

But I did. I leapt to my feet and turned to see the TARDIS in all her greyish foggy glory. Parked neatly in front of the ghost of Ching Shih's desk.

I didn't consciously request to go back to the world of the living, but suddenly the air was warm and I was greeted by a faceful of leather.

"Buffy!" A painfully familiar voice laughed loudly into my ear. "Where the 'ell 'ave you been?"

A laugh forced its way up my throat in response. " _Me?_ Where the hell have _you_ been?"

The arms around me tightened until the embrace was almost painful. I curled my own arms around the Doctor and squeezed him back as hard as I could.

_Finally._

"Sorry," the Doctor muttered into my shoulder. "You're not exactly easy to track." He pulled back just enough to look down at me without completely relinquishing his hold. I couldn't see the blue of his eyes in the dim light, but I could tell that they were smiling. "I only found you now because of the dimensional fluctuations you cause by going back and forth and even that was lucky. The TARDIS can only pick up fluctuations within a certain distance."

"You took your time," I responded dryly, rolling my eyes in a pathetic attempt to be humorous.

The Doctor rolled his own eyes in response. "Well, I did try to do a technology sweep for your phone…"

"Yeah, that got dropped in the ocean."

"...but when that didn't work there wasn't much else to do but wait. The problem was that I had no idea where to even start. Might've taken even longer if it weren't for your little friend."

"Friend?" I echoed. "What friend?"

"Girl... what was her name? Pei-Pei. Knocked on the TARDIS door. Took me completely by surprise."

I chuckled as a wave of fondness for the girl washed over me. "Bet that was a shock for both of you."

The Doctor gave one of his huge grins. "Just a bit, yeah. I didn't let her in but she must've seen the TARDIS dematerialize. I took off as soon I as knew you were on a ship." He frowned. "That can't have been fun. How're you holdin' up?"

I shrugged. "Been better. I would kill for a shower." It was an easy lie.

The Doctor stared at me disbelievingly for a moment, but eventually nodded before releasing me and redirecting his attention to the other person in the room.

"Is she okay?" I nodded to the pirate.

"Yeah, just unconscious," he answered, going back over to peer at Ching Shih's unconscious form. "Who is she?"

"Ching Shih."

The Doctor blinked at the name, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Should've known that's where you'd end up. That should be a way of locatin' each other. Just camp out with the most famous person you can find."

I rested my hand against the warm blue wood of the spaceship. I was ready to go. I wanted to put all this behind me. I was done with this place and time zone. Time to move on.

Thankfully, the Doctor seemed to pick up on my cue. "Right then. We should probably be off. Things to do. Anything you need before we go?"

I shook my head and mentally leaded with him to hurry the fuck up and open the door.

"Do you want to wait an' say goodbye?" He jerked his head to Ching Shih's prone form.

I took one last look at the Queen of the Pirates and shook my head. "Nah, let's go."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	15. The Other Mozart - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until I’m caught up with what I’ve written.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Description of PTSD, alluded panic attack, brief suicidal thoughts

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Fifteen: The Other Mozart** _

_**Part One** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The shower was a welcome distraction. Intense water pressure and water hot enough to nearly scald your skin off was thankfully enough to clear my head and awaken me from the living-dead type stupor I had been in for the last few weeks. And GOD, was I filthy. Weeks without any real form of cleansing had left me very nearly literally caked in dead skin and grime.

I mentally sent an apology to the TARDIS as I watched the murky brown water vanish down the drain.

When my skin was red and raw and I felt like I couldn't possibly get any cleaner, I hopped out of the shower and snagged one of the fluffy towels the wonderful time ship left out, feeling much better than I had when I'd gotten in. Unfortunately, my somewhat acceptable frame of mind was even shorter lived than I'd originally hoped.

I'd caught sight of myself in the mirror.

I slowly lowered the towel so I could get a look at my naked body in the full length mirror that extended from the sink, grimacing slightly at the sight. Weeks of little to no food and water hadn't done me any favors. Red and pruning skin stretched thinly across a fragile frame. A bird fresh out of its egg. Fragile. Small. Helpless.

I shuddered and pinched at the dark circles under my eyes. I would really have to work on my health.

After I'd dressed in comfy leggings and a well loved T-shirt, I curled up in bed and tried to close my eyes. I was tired; I'd been tired for absolute ages. But no matter how hard I tried to relax every muscle one by one, or counted a fraction of the infinite expanse of holographic stars above my head, sleep wouldn't take me. I was far too stressed and wired for that. Restless. Couldn't settle. Something I'd forgotten.

Whatever.

Eventually I gave up and, after pulling on a pair of converse, wandered out of my room to find the Doctor.

Instinctively, my feet found their way into the console room. Not sure how, to be honest, because it was much closer than usual. I'd only taken one turn instead of two.

 _Perhaps the TARDIS has something else in mind_ , I considered. Was that why I couldn't fall asleep? Could she do that? Make her passengers restless so they'd get up and do stuff instead of sleep.

_Huh. Wouldn't surprise me._

I spotted the Doctor almost immediately. He was standing on the other side of the console, resting his hands against the metal and staring deeply into the time rotor, evidently lost in thought.

"Hey," I greeted meekly, padding over to the console as well to peer at his distorted figure through the glass. "Tried to sleep but didn't get very far. Any other ideas?"

No response. The Time Lord didn't move at all or otherwise do anything to acknowledge my presence.

"You wouldn't believe how much dirt I got off me," I tried again. "Never thought I'd appreciate showers so much."

Still nothing.

"Doctor?"

I edged around the console carefully to get a better look at him. Once he was in full view, it was very obvious that something was wrong.

"Doctor? Are you okay?"

His hands weren't resting on the console, they were gripping it so tight that his knuckles had turned ghostly white. Every muscle was rigid, his breathing coming out in quick gasps. He wasn't gazing into the time rotor pensively either, but staring straight through it at something only he could see. Whatever it was, it couldn't be nice. No, the way his face was twisted into a grimace, pale and fear stricken with sweat beading on his brow suggested something very, very bad.

"Doctor?" I asked again, softer this time. He might as well have been made of stone. I edged closer and raised a trembling hand to touch his arm, but hesitated.

After a brief one sided mental conversation with the TARDIS, I scraped up the confidence to close the gap and lay my hand on his leather clad arm.

The Doctor flinched hard, yanking his arm away violently and shoving me away from him.

I staggered back a few steps but didn't lose my balance.

"What? What is it? What?" The Doctor snarled. Disoriented and afraid, he sounded much angrier than he probably was, causing me to cower. I could still see the fear in his eyes, now blended with confusion. He glared around the console room wildly, looking for the threat before resting his icy gaze on me.

"Nothing important," I reassured. I smiled gently in spite of my heart beating out of my chest. My muscles screamed at me to run, but I held my ground. "Just thought I'd join you."

"Oh." The Doctor relaxed somewhat. He spun around and pressed a few buttons purposefully, though I was pretty sure none of them actually did anything. They certainly didn't do anything to hide the way his hands were trembling.

"Yeah," I continued mildly, taking a few slow, deliberate steps closer, watching for a reaction. "Couldn't sleep. Though the shower was nice. I'd forgotten how great hot water can be."

He was watching me out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise gave no positive reaction to my coming closer. It wasn't negative, either. I kept my hands in plain sight until I brushed up against him at the console. He looked away from me and stared hard at the complex array of buttons and levers.

"I haven't been so grateful for indoor plumbing since that time me and my brother got into a mud fight. There was a creek that ran through woods next to my house…"

I reached out and covered one of his trembling hands with my own. He responded by latching onto my fingers with a grip so tight that I was sure they would break.

"It was fall, and it was starting to get cool out, ya know? Not COLD cold, but cold enough that playing in the water was a stupid idea. Anyway, we got absolutely covered in clay. Georgia red clay, so our clothes were completely ruined."

It took him a few moments and three tries, but he finally managed to drag his eyes up to meet mine. I wasn't a fan of eye contact, but I kept my dark blue eyes on his light ones that were full of fear and embarrassment.

"By the time we wore ourselves out, we were both completely numb and had to walk all the way up the hill, barefoot, through the woods. My Grandpa had to spray us off with the garden hose before my Nana would let us in the house to get cleaned off the rest of the way."

I slipped my arm around his and pressed myself against him, still holding his gaze. He shifted his weight slightly so he was leaning more fully against me. Encouraged, I wrapped my other arm around to entwine my fingers with his, effectively hugging one of his arms to my chest.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, sharing a semi-comfortable silence. Eventually I felt the tremors in his hand subside and noticed his breathing even out.

"You okay?"

The Doctor shrugged me off easily, smacking on a very fake but very practiced grin.

"Course I am! I'm always okay." He shot me a questioning look. "What're you doing up anyway? Thought it'd be ages until I saw you back here."

"Couldn't settle," I explained for the third time, though this time he actually seemed to be listening.

He nodded pensively and stared at his hands for a moment before asking, "What's your brother's name? The one you played in the mud with."

I was mildly surprised that he had actually been paying attention. "Charlie."

"Older or younger?"

Maybe talking about it was helping him calm down.

"Younger. I had two brothers. I was the oldest, then it was Charlie, then Geordie."

" _Have_ , not had," the Time Lord corrected kindly. "They're still your family, Buff."

My heart contorted painfully, and I was hard pressed not to say, ' _it doesn't feel like it'_. I didn't though. It would open a whole train of conversation that I really didn't want to have with him, or have at all.

Instead, I said, "I guess so."

The Doctor, shoving down his own pain while I struggled to do the same with mine, knew enough to not press the matter. He turned back and started fiddling with the monitor. "Well, if you're not gonna rest, we might as well get back to business."

I rested my elbows on the console and stared up at him. "'Business'?"

He nodded. "Tell me what happened to the fissure you were trying to fix, right before the pirates."

"Ah." Feelings of mild dread caused my fingers to tingle. I fiddled with a lever awkwardly. "I sort of… broke it."

The Doctor snorted. "I'll say. Look."

He swung the monitor around for me to see the crack in space-time in question. I winced at the sight. What had once been a stereotypical crack now looked like something you'd see in a window next door to a baseball field. The gash was torn all out of shape, twisted and gaping like a yawning mouth trapped in the middle of a spiderweb.

"Oops."

The Doctor rolled his eyes."That wasn't you trying to fix it, was it?"

"No! Well, sort of. I almost had it fixed… but when the attack started, I sort of freaked and, well… made it worse."

The Doctor sighed. "Well, we can't leave it like that. You'll have to go back in and finish the job. Mind you, now it won't be near as easy to fix."

"So does that mean we have to go back to China?"

My dread intensified. Something I _did not_ want to do.

"'Fraid so." The Doctor acknowledged, starting the dematerialization sequence.

"What about the creature?" My voice was barely audible over the sounds of the TARDIS engines. I had given him a brief rundown on what had occurred right before he'd found me. Naturally, I hadn't been overly eager to discuss it, but he'd needed to know.

"Dead. That's what you said." The Doctor was gruff, keeping his focus on the controls in front of him. "Right?"

"Yeah. But you haven't explained it yet."

The Doctor sighed, yanking a final switch into place, causing the TARDIS to settle into a fairly smooth landing. "And I will. One step at a time, though. Finish this job, and I'll explain everything. Deal?"

No, no deal. That's what I wanted to say; that I wasn't going to go anywhere near where those creatures could be ever again. But I didn't.

"I'll go get the medallion."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The fissure was even more devastating in person. The actual rift itself was almost as tall as me, but the offshoots from it spiderwebbed what must've been at least fifteen feet high and twenty feet across.

How the fuck was I supposed to fix that?

I breathed deeply and considered my options. Huh, like I had any. The mist surrounding me stirred slightly, causing me to shiver. Should've found warmer clothes.

One step at a time?

One step at a time.

So that's what I did. Beginning with some of the offshoots, moving right to left, I began sewing. Not messily this time, either. I took it seriously, keeping each individual stitch small and neat. At the end of each curve or fork in the interstice, I would calmly instruct the manipulator to tighten the thread of light, release that particular strand, and take up another to begin again. It quickly became repetitive and monotonous, but also managed to be somewhat calming. Like coloring. I even found myself starting to zone out. Before long, all of the smaller fissures that I could immediately reach were all taken care of.

I stood back to admire my handy work. Neat and mended. Now only the main fissure and the smaller ones above it were left. After another moment's consideration, I decided that it would be best to finish the remaining tendrils before attacking the main one. Not that I knew if there would be any difference if I did the big one first, it just made sense to have some sort of order.

A quick glance back confirmed that the Doctor was keeping his promise of waiting. He looked bored though; I didn't need to see his face to tell that. The Time Lord's Blank form was leaning back against the solid form of the TARDIS with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

I smiled fondly and began considering how to reach the fractures that were currently beyond my reach.

Could I climb?

No.

Wait. Stupid.

I fingered the medallion thoughtfully, running my finger over the crimson jewel.

Ok. Can climb.

It was like a ladder. I'd take a step up, and the fog would solidify into some kind of invisible step. Same with the handholds.

It felt a bit like learning to drive. Gritting your teeth, gripping the wheel far too tightly, and methodically checking and rechecking that you were doing everything perfectly. I was consciously instructing the invisible platform I was kneeling on to, you know, continue existing while I multitasked and did the same to the interdimensional-thread-whatever and the skin of the edge of the universe.

Hopefully. _Hopefully_ , it would get easier with time, and, like driving, become second nature.

In. Out. In. Out. Tighten. Release.

Rethread. In. Out. In. Out.

And the top part was done. Only the main rift was left.

I had just begun to climb down and re-adjust my dimensional platform to better accommodate the angle when I heard it.

A low, guttural growl that reverberated in my bones.

_No._

I skittered back up onto my platform and lay flat, watching the lit up gash with bated breath. Then, from within the crack at the edge of the universe—

Something moved.

Claws gripped the edges of the fissure, grasping and heaving itself free like a gigantic insect forcing entry from underneath a door.

I couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.

Panic gripped my chest, tingled in my hands, and sapped all the feeling from my legs.

_There was another one?_

Calm down.

Breathe.

The creature was bigger than the last one. Not by much, but still. It seemed to sniff around a bit before returning its attention to the rift. With sick fascination, I watched as it's jaws unhinged unnaturally, just as the other's had when it ate the woman on the ship. It sank its teeth into the edge of the rift, latching on and sucking in great gulps of light from the fissure. Like a leech.

Feeding.

Not interested in me.

I slipped down from the platform cautiously, daring to slip by it.

With a snap and a sucking noise, I crossed back over to the regular world. Only daring to let out the breath I had been holding when the sun hit my cheeks.

The Doctor's eyes snapped up to mine, boredom immediately melting into concern as I raced over to him.

"What happened?" He demanded. "Are you alright?"

I sort of managed to babble out a response, which proved difficult due to my heart pounding so hard that it hurt.

The Doctor listened with raised eyebrows, then frowned and scrubbed at his face with his hands.

"Come on," he instructed, jerking his head to indicate the TARDIS doors. I followed without hesitation.

Once inside, he turned to face me, blunt as ever. "There's nothing I can do, but you can't just leave it there."

I blinked at him owlishly, having trouble comprehending what he had just said. "Wha— me?"

He crossed his arms across his chest once more. "Yes, you."

"How?" I demanded, my voice going up in pitch.

"The same way you handled the last one."

"You mean… _kill_ it?"

My hands were tingling again.

The Doctor nodded casually, as if there was nothing to it.

His nonchalance was causing me to panic even more than I already was. _Oh, you know that big scary thing that EATS people? Yeah, you have to fight it._

Do my legs still even exist?

"Why me?" I squeaked, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

"Cos you're the only one that can get across into the… what 'ave you been calling it? The Otherside. Rubbish name, by the way. The Chronomites can only be killed while in multi-dimensional flux."

"Chronomites?" Bile rose to the top of my throat. "I think I've heard that before."

The Doctor shook his head. "Doubt it. TV show or not, I've never crossed paths with one before. You're probably thinking of the Chronovores."

That rang a bell. "I guess?"

"Chronovores are sentient beings that exist in the Time Vortex and in the Blank Space beyond the universe, where they feed on time. Very very ancient, and very very powerful. Chronomites are sort of similar, I guess. As in they exist outside the universe and feed on time energy. But Chronomites aren't sentient like the Chronovores. More like a fungus than a regular life form. Parasites. They can feed and fester wherever there's a wound in time."

"Like the crack?"

"Yeah. Like the crack. Usually they're rare. Grow in the void between universes and feed on paradoxes and other anomalies because they don't have the power to break into the universes themselves. Harmless. But something's gone wrong, the skin of the universe has been fracturing, and they're getting in."

"So if I'm supposed to fix the cracks…" God, I can't breathe.

"You have to get rid of them too," The Doctor insisted firmly. "Otherwise they'll just chew another hole through and let more in. Whatever caused the fractures attracted a swarm. Time and space is being infested."

"I'm not an exterminator," I snipped, fear making me angry.

"Well, tough," The Doctor quipped back, already losing his patience, "Cos they can't be killed in this dimensional plane. It has to be done from the inside."

I remembered Ching Shih burying her blade into the creature's— the Chronomite's back, and how little effect it had— and then the knives I had given the other prisoners. They hadn't stood a chance.

"I can't," I hissed. "I don't want to."

I can't breathe.

"There isn't a choice," the Time Lord bristled, misinterpreting my tone. "You're the only one that can!"

"But I just can't! I can't kill those things!"

I can't breathe.

Jaws that unhinged and claws as long as my hand.

"You did it before!"

Pressed into the ground with it's mouth hovering over me, ready to swallow me whole.

"On accident!"

Breathe, Buffy.

A string of saliva dripping on my face. Cold blood gushing on my hands.

"People are going to die!"

An unearthly growl that could make the world go still.

So could I.

"That's not my problem!" I snarled, not really sure if I meant what I was saying or not.

"This isn't the time to get selfish! That Chronomite you saw will only feed on the kinetic temporal energy for a while, then it'll turn on the people for their _potential_ energy."

Like a Weeping Angel. Stealing people's could-have-beens in an instant.

"You can't make me," I snapped, trying to hide how shaky my voice was by sounding tough.

"'You can't make me'," he mocked. "Do you have any idea how childish you sound?"

The Doctor's expression had melted into one of vague disgust. My already palpitating heart clenched painfully at the sight.

" _I'm not you_!" I snapped, hurt. "I can't kill things! I'm not cut out for this! I'm just not!"

I didn't realize the implications of that statement until after I said it, when the Doctor's face darkened drastically from annoyance to cold anger.

"No," the Doctor said, deathly calm, though I could see the storm raging underneath. "You're not. But a lot of people are going to die if you don't. So you can get over it, _or get out_."

It felt like he'd slapped me across the face. "Wh-What?"

I had to fight to keep my breath from wheezing in my throat.

"You heard me," he growled. "I'm not having a self-absorbed _child_ on my TARDIS. You can stay _and do your bloody job_ , or I can take you home. Your choice."

Waves of despair washed over me, sapping away whatever strength reserves I had. Almost certain death, or a lonely apartment.

I really wasn't sure what would be worse.

In the jaws of an alien, or at the end of a rope strung over a door frame. The end result would be the same.

I refused to cry, even though my throat was tight and burning. I promised myself in the stockade at the belly of the pirate ship that I wasn't going to cry in front of anyone ever again. This was no exception.

We were quiet for a few moments before I dropped my eyes and stared hard at the floor. "What am I supposed to do?" I asked bitterly.

My hands were shaking from the stress. I balled them into fists and crossed my arms to keep them hidden.

The Doctor hesitated, and I heard him turn and move towards the console. I managed to glance up at his back.

"I don't know." He admitted lowly, fiddling with the console.

My heart stopped when the engines came to life, the beloved trademark TARDIS sound ringing in my ears, destroying my hope for the first time, rather than kindling it.

"Are you taking me back?" I was still determined not to cry, but I couldn't prevent my voice from cracking.

"No," the Doctor said quietly, keeping all his focus on the controls. "But I suppose we can put off dealing with the Chronomite for a bit. I've fused the coordinates, so we're guaranteed to come back within five minutes after we left."

I clung on to the railing, not sure if I was disappointed or relieved. What I was sure of was that I was sad. And angry. And for the exact same reasons. It hurt, and I felt as lonely as ever.

"Where are we going, then?" I asked somberly, glancing away at the bottom part of the console when the Doctor cast a glance behind him in my direction.

"Just a quick trip," he said quietly. "We've both been stuck in one spot for the last few weeks. Makes sense to go somewhere else for a bit. Change of scenery."

The sound of the TARDIS landing replaced that of the engines in flight. The Doctor nodded to a hallway I hadn't been down before. "That way to the wardrobe. The TARDIS'll show you. Go on. You can't go out dressed like that."

"I don't even know what I'm dressing for."

"The TARDIS will give you the options. Hurry up. I don't want to wait all day."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

Finding the wardrobe was enough to distract me for a short time. From what I could tell, the TARDIS was feeling sympathetic for my plight, because she didn't try to confuse me once. All I had to do was walk in the direction the Doctor indicated, and the TARDIS did the rest. Doors slid open on their own, and the lights of certain passageways would flicker when I needed to turn. I knew I should probably be trying to remember the directions, but my brain was too scrambled to retain anything for more than a few seconds.

A final door opened, wooden, as opposed to the usual metal and I found myself in a massive room that was absolutely overflowing with clothes. The first level must've been at least the size of a warehouse, like one you might expect to see in the costuming department of a high budget movie production company, but then you could look up and see all the levels above. The place was round in shape, and I could see stairs lining the walls to take me higher into individual changing rooms and offshoot sections of specific clothing types.

I crossed my arms nervously, feeling inexplicably exposed.

"Uhh, so what should I go with?" I asked the ship out loud even though it probably wasn't necessary.

Somewhere among the seemingly endless racks of clothes, a light turned on. I stood on my toes in an attempt to see the source, but quickly gave up and made my way over to it, tripping over extra bits and pieces of clothing that spilled out into the walkways.

The point of origin turned out to be a kind of changing area on the far side of the room. Taking the hint, I pushed my way inside and found that It was bigger than I expected, brightly lit with old fashioned bulbs and furnished with luxurious red velvet carpet and furniture. Within was a set of three mirrors, so you could examine yourself from nearly every angle, and at least twenty racks of clothes, all brimming with various types of dresses.

I returned my attention to the mirrors, where an electronic panel had caught my eye. The screen said:

**Preset: Earth;**

**1760's; Austria;**

**Female; Upper-class**

Under this was a diagram of a woman dressed in what I imagined to be the fashion from 1760s Europe. I chewed at my fingernail briefly before tapping the diagram. A new key popped up beside it that said [BEGIN] in bright green.

" _Step one,"_ a monotone woman's voice began, making me flinch, " _Undergarments…"_

Article by article, the computer directed me through the clothing I would need, conveniently highlighting the section of the rows to pick from as I went. It was also helpful enough to show me _how_ to put on each item, which turned out to be ridiculously difficult. At least I didn't have to figure out how to put on a corset by myself.

What felt like hours later, I was decked out in a dress with an intricate blue and white pattern and a ton of lace. A ridiculous hoop skirt made my hips twice as wide as they usually were, and the corset was already starting to piss me off. But, I was pretty sure I looked the part.

I was about to leave and go for the console room, but the door to the dressing room slid shut on its own.

"What?" I asked the ceiling moodily, wishing more and more that I'd just stayed in bed.

The panel on the wall distinctly said in flashing letters: _**[Proceed to hair station]**_

I sighed and wandered over to where the spotlight directed. In the corner was what appeared to be a well lit makeup station. Behind the red-velvet chair was something that resembled one of this beehive hair dryer things that you would sometimes see in hair salons. I had a feeling that this wasn't the same thing.

Nevertheless, I hopped into the chair, flinching when the hair-thingy came to life, lowering over my head and sucking up my hair inside of it.

For a moment, I was terrified that I was going to lose my auburn locks, but a new panel appeared from within the mirror, displaying a variety of styles that were available for the time period.

They all were fairly ridiculous, but I finally settled on one that was slightly less hideous than the rest. The machine began humming, and I felt the odd tug as my hair was arranged accordingly. It took a while, as the styles for this period were fairly complex, but when it finished, I was impressed.

The computer recommended a simple powder for makeup, which I applied, and I was released into the rest of the ship. I assumed the TARDIS was satisfied, seeing as the control room was closer than it had been when I left it.

Upon arrival, I was surprised to find that the Doctor has changed as well, or sort of. Instead of his normal shirt, he was in a sort of waistcoat with his leather jacket over top. He also had a hat; a wide brimmed thing that was turned up on three sides. His pants and shoes remained the same.

Seemed to me to be a half-assed attempt to blend in.

"You took forever," he complained, but it didn't seem like his heart was in it.

"It's not my fault that Eighteenth Century fashion is freaking ridiculous. The dressing thingy said Austria?" I asked quietly, still stung by our earlier argument.

"Yep!" The Doctor confirmed, finally turning with a smile that was just a bit too wide. His eyes dived over my dress and he nodded with approval. "That'll do. Let's get a shift on."

"What's in 1760's Austria?" I wondered as he led me out the door.

"Dunno. The TARDIS picked it. Shall we?" The Doctor strode out into the sunlight and offered me his arm.

I took it, but was staring around distractedly. It looked more or less like I'd expected. Cobblestone streets lined with old fashioned buildings, packed with people in various qualities of dress and carriages pulled by horses. Like the first time I set foot in a place in a time far before mine, I was bewildered, overwhelmed, and _humbled_. I made sure I didn't cling onto the Doctor like I did last time, though, and held onto his arm loosely like some of the other people traversing the streets were doing.

"Vienna, by the looks of it," the Doctor announced, his fake smile melting into a real one. He sniffed the air thoughtfully. "Late 1760s. 1768 or 1769, give or take. C'mon, let's see what Vienna has to offer."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	16. The Other Mozart - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until caught up with what I already have written.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Sixteen: The Other Mozart** _

_**Part Two** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

We spent the first hour or so wandering the streets, visiting booths and window shopping. While enjoyable, it seemed like the Doctor was dead set on confusing me, his personality being roughly the polar opposite of the borderline cruel indifference that it was when we left China; looping an arm around my waist and hugging me to his side protectively when we pushed through a crowd, laughing and cracking jokes like we were the best of friends; cowing a drunk man, who thought it was a good idea to hurl vulgar comments in my general direction, with a glare that would've caused hell to freeze over.

I lost track of him at one point and he showed up ten minutes later with a pretty bracelet with steel beads in the shapes of small flowers, which he slipped on my wrist with a shy smile.

I knew that I should be appreciative of his sudden change of heart, but was I finding it difficult to keep up with his sudden mood swings. It didn't help that I was still angry and wanted to hate him, which was extremely hard to do when he was actively being sweet and dopey.

My mind could help but recall our first meeting; how quick he had been to anger to the point of violence in the alleyway; how fast his temper had flared when Rose got upset about Mickey; his barely contained fury when he encountered Major whatshisface; the look in his eyes when he shoved me away from him in the console room after I startled him out of whatever mental state he had been in.

Threatening to leave me behind was just the latest glimpse of the rest of the iceberg hidden in the watery depths, and there was no way it would be the last.

Not that I thought for a second that he was by any means a violent person. Because he wasn't, not by a long shot. What he was, though, was unstable, maybe even spiraling, and for the first time I found myself wondering at how safe I really was with him.

Not that those thoughts lasted very long. I didn't think he would actually try to _hurt_ me, but I was starting to feel like someone had tied me behind a horse, like they would sometimes in movies; bound to a creature much more powerful than me with no way of knowing when it would be docile, and when it would buck and gallop away, leaving me to try and run behind it until my legs have out and I was dragged to my death.

I came into this universe thinking I had a fairly decent understanding of the Doctor, but now it was obvious that my knowledge fell short. This version of the Doctor had never _really_ displayed signs of being mentally unstable in the show, had he?

I couldn't think of anything, but an idea had bubbled to the surface of my mind.

"How old are you, now?" I asked the Time Lord, who was rifling through a paper someone was trying to get him to buy.

"Dunno, exactly," he mused distractedly. "Haven't thought about it in a while. Not quite nine 'undred yet, I don't think. Close, though. Why?"

"Just curious."

He was nine hundred when Rose started traveling with him. How much time passed for him in the show between leaving Rose and coming back for her at the end of the first episode? I knew that my presence was changing things, but what about the stuff I didn't know? How long would he have spent traveling within those five seconds? What happened to him while he was off on his own? Most importantly, how different of a person was he from the moment he left to the point he came back?

Guess I would find out.

I was still worried, and scared, and angry, but I was finally starting to regain some of my analytical mindset. I could pretend to be happy for a bit.

Vienna was beautiful, and it was fascinating to listen to the Doctor explaining the history of the city as we went. Might as well make the best of it.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

I had let go of the Doctor's arm to study some glass figurines in a window when someone knocked into me hard from behind. Not as steady on my feet as I normally might be, what with the low heels and cumbersome dress screwing with my center of gravity, I found myself tumbling over with a startled squeak.

Thankfully, I fell forwards, so I was able to catch myself and not bang my head on anything.

"Terribly sorry, Madam!" A man's frantic voice reached my ears.

I scoffed moodily and tried to pick myself up, which was difficult on account of the dress.

"Oi!" The Doctor's voice came next, and I found myself being picked up by the waist and set neatly back on my feet.

Now upright, I got a good view of the man that had run into me. He was on the older end of middle aged, with a white wig and clean shaven face. He was obviously rather agitated, from the way his thin hands fidgeted at his sides.

"I'm so dreadfully sorry, madam," the man repeated, looking guilty. "I'm afraid I failed to look where I was going. I hope you haven't been injured."

The Doctor, who had been the one to pick me up, bushed off my dress a bit. "Alright, Buff?"

I examined my scraped and stinging hands before shrugging and dusting them off against each other. "I think I'll live."

Satisfied that I was alright, the Doctor turned on the other man. "What's the hurry, mate?"

"Sorry, Sir, Madam, but I'm afraid I am in a hurry, and have urgent business to attend to…"

The Doctor, upon noticing how upset the man was, both softened and perked up at the idea of anything urgent. "Anything we can help with?"

The man opened his mouth to say no, but hesitated. I could practically see the wheels turning behind his eyes. Whatever it was, he must be fairly desperate to be considering the help of two complete strangers.

"I'm looking for my son," he admitted after a moment. "He's been missing since yesterday evening. He is but twelve years of age."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "That's not that young. Maybe he's just off with his mates. Young lads will do that now and then."

"Perhaps," the man admitted, "but the circumstances surrounding his disappearance are… odd, to say in the least."

"Have you talked to the police?" I inquired, brushing the remaining dirt from my dress.

"No. I'm afraid that… that is not an option at the present."

"Why not?" The Doctor pressed. "If you're worried something's happened to him, you should report it."

The guy got a bit huffy at that."Excuse me, but you are…?"

"The Doctor. And this is my companion, Miss Buffy Reid."

"Doctor what?"

"Doctor… John Smith," The Doctor relented, evidently deciding it was easier to give him the alias. "But everyone always calls me 'the Doctor'."

"Not from around here, I presume?"

"Nope!" The Doctor grinned. "We're travelers, from all over the place."

The man pursed his lips thoughtfully, clearly debating on whether or not to give us his own name. "Leopold Mozart," he decided, extending his hand for the Doctor to shake.

The Doctor looked a tad surprised, but hid it well, beaming away while he shook Leopold's hand eagerly. "Nice to meet you. And your son's name is…"

"Wolfgang," Leopold sighed. "Seeing as you're travelers, I suppose you know of my family."

"Might 'ave heard it once or twice," The Doctor said with a wolfish grin. "Will your children be performing soon?"

"Ideally, tomorrow night." Leopold frowned once more. "Which is why I have not yet informed the police. News of Wolfgang's disappearance would spread quickly, and perhaps put off rather important guests. Naturally, if something had happened to him, I would prefer to find him. But if he is simply off on his own accord… a chaos, delay or cancelation of the performance would be seen as a disgrace."

"Don't wanna lower your ratings," the Doctor summarized.

"Yes, so I expect this conversation to be purely between us," he said sternly.

"Oh, of course," the Doctor said seriously. "More than that, you've bumped into the right people." The Doctor brought out the psychic paper and held if out for the man to examine. "Private Investigator. Miss Reid here is my assistant. We'd be happy to help."

_**~0~0~0~** _

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_**~0~0~0~** _

That's how I ended up at the temporary residence of the Mozart family. It was all a bit surreal. In 1768, the family was already famous. The Doctor had given me a crash course on the way over, seeing as while I was familiar with the name and some of the music, I was at a loss for literally anything else on the subject.

Basically, Leopold Mozart was the dad and he was big in the music business at the time (I did say crash course), and at this point in time, had been teaching his two children, Maria Anna and Wolfgang to be amazing at music. Wolfgang, obviously, was the one everyone in the future would be referring to when they said 'Mozart'. But for now, he was twelve, and currently on tour.

Now, we were standing in Leopold's study, surrounded by squashy green chairs and various piles of sheet music and instruments.

"Now," The Doctor pressed, "what makes you think Wolfgang has been taken?"

Leopold's eyes flickered over to me. "Sir, this story can be found quite distressing. Perhaps Miss Reid could wait with my daughter while we speak."

I turned my head to see a young woman of about my age appear in the doorway, evidently having been expected to be summoned.

"Nonsense," The Doctor scoffed. "She can hear anything I can."

"I'm afraid I must disagree," Leopold said more firmly. "It is a widely known fact that members of the fairer sex are more prone to… let's say… fits, when exposed to objects of a more crude nature."

I could feel my blood starting to boil.

"With all due respect," the Doctor argued, matching Leopold's tone, "If I thought Miss Reid couldn't handle hearing about tough situations, I wouldn't have employed her."

"It's okay," I cut in before Leopold could argue further. "I'll go."

"Buff…" The Doctor started, but I shook my head.

"It's fine. I'm sure I can find something to do." I turned and made for the door, but paused to say, "And I know you'll just tell me everything he says later anyway."

The Doctor smiled a bit at that.

I followed Maria Anna down the hall and into another room that was a lot like the study we just left, except the chairs were blue. In the corner of the room sat a small piano with sheets of music stacked up on and around it. On the small sitting table were two cups of freshly poured tea.

"Do you like sugar?" Maria Anna asked, sitting down at the far side of the table and picking up the container of sugar.

"Uhh, sure," I said, easing down opposite of her.

"You said your name was Miss Reid?"

"Yeah." I accepted the teacup. "But you can call me Buffy."

She smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you. Everyone calls me Nannerl."

"That's a neat nickname."

"Are you from London?"

"Yeah. Though I haven't been back there in a while."

"And you travel with Doctor Smith?"

"Yeah. He just prefers to be called Doctor, though."

"Just the two of you?" She prompted.

The tea was still hot. I forced myself not to wince when the liquid scalded my tongue."Yeah."

"Not to be crass, but is he your beau?"

I had to blink at her for a moment before I recalled exactly what a beau was. "No. No!" I sputtered. "Definitely not."

She gave me a doubtful look. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

She shrugged and added more sugar to her tea. "It just seems a bit odd to be traveling with a man you are not related to. I thought perhaps you were engaged."

"Uhm. No. It's not like that."

Nannerl smirked shyly. "He's a bit handsome though."

I laughed. "I mean, I guess. But I don't think that it would ever happen."

"I don't know. It seems like he holds you in high respects. That's more than most women get."

"Then 'most women's' standards are dismally low."

We lapsed into silence. Nannerl appeared to be lost in thought, her brow furrowed and eyes pensive as she continued to sip at her drink.

"I heard that you are a fantastic musician," I offered, trying to fill in the awkward gap.

She jumped on the opportunity. "Would you like me to play for you?"

I beamed. Music from a real, living Mozart? "Yes, please!"

Nannerl grinned and hurried over to her piano, dumping the stacks of sheet music piled up on the bench unceremoniously to the floor. She poised herself over the keys and looked back at me expectantly.

"What would you like?"

I blanked, not really knowing any classical music beyond the basics. "Err... something that you wrote."

The young woman thought for a moment, and began to play. I had never had much affinity for classical music, but I suppose that's the difference between listening to something remotely and getting a live performance. Nannerl's fingers danced along the keys with artistic precision, causing music to curl into the air like a living creature. It was a beautiful, light melody, reminding me of birds singing on a warm spring day.

When the last notes had faded, the musician turned to me expectantly. "What do you think?"

"Wonderful," I praised. "Really, really amazing."

She blushed slightly at the compliment. "You're kind. Do you play music?"

I shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I tried to learn how to play the piano when I was younger, but I gave it up for… other stuff." I had too many honors classes and couldn't fit it into my schedule. "I still love listening to it, though."

Nannerl nodded. "I can understand that. I've dedicated myself to music my entire life, but now it seems that I am also going to have to, as you say, 'give it up'."

"Why?"

Nannerl looked down at her hands. "My father says I can no longer perform like my brother does. Tomorrow is going to be the last time I perform in front of an audience."

I gawked, scandalized on her behalf. "What? Why?"

"I'm old enough to marry, now," she explained as if it were obvious. "So there's no point in being distracted from it."

"That's a load of crap." I scoffed. "You have a wonderful gift. You can't just throw that away because you're a girl."

"My father forbids it."

"So? You're a grown up. You can make at least _some_ of your own decisions."

She smiled sadly. "You sound like my brother."

"Then your brother is onto something."

"What my daughter does or doesn't do isn't your concern."

Both Nannerl and I flinched as the new voice sounded behind us. We turned to see Leopold standing in the doorway with an unpleasant expression. "I would watch your tongue, if I were you. Women that talk too much often find themselves in trouble."

Nannerl looked away guiltily, as if she had been caught conspiring against her father. I, on the other hand, bristled.

"Yeah. _My_ tongue." I snipped, glowering in the man's direction. "My possession. Meaning I get to decide what I do with it. And if I want to use it to talk, I can."

Leopold glared at me for a moment, but didn't argue further. "The Doctor asked me to inform you that he thinks he has a lead about my son's whereabouts, and will be back shortly."

"So he just _left_?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes. He also said to tell you to 'not wander off'."

I sighed in irritation. "Of course he did. Did he say where he was going?"

"No. He did not."

I groaned and scrubbed at my eyes wearily. I _hated_ it when he did that, both on the show and in real life. The companion _always_ had to go and find him before he did something stupid. I supposed I would have to do the same.

"So, what exactly did you tell him?" I demanded.

A slightly cruel smirk curled onto his features. "Sorry, Miss Reid. But I also own a tongue, And I choose to use it as I please. You are welcome here until the Doctor returns." And with that, he vanished back into the rest of the residence.

I glared after him moodily. "No offense, Nannerl, but your dad's a jerk."

"He isn't usually this bad," she tried to placate. "He can be quite kind. Wolfgang's disappearance has him on edge."

"That doesn't explain why he's so determined to keep you from staying with your music career."

"That's just the way it is," she shrugged. "I'm a woman. I'm to find a respectable husband and rear children. I won't stop composing, but I can't make a career with it as my brother will. My father loves me, and just wants what's best."

"That's not good enough!" I snapped. "You can do whatever you want. Stand up to him! Tell him you aren't ready to quit yet. If he loves you, he won't stop you from doing what you love."

Nannerl must have agreed with me to some extent, because she was becoming increasingly agitated, fidgeting in her seat and fussing with the hem of her sleeve. "No. I can't. I won't go against his wishes. He's my father."

I sighed, knowing I wasn't going to get anywhere with her. She'd already decided that her father's word was law. "Just think about it, okay? You're a genius. It would be a shame if your talent went to waste."

The young woman tried a smile. "It won't. You enjoy it, don't you? That's good enough for me."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	17. The Other Mozart - Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until I’ve caught up with what I have written.

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_**Chapter Seventeen: The Other Mozart** _

_**Part Three** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

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I waited for the Doctor for hours. He said to not wander off, and at first I was more or less okay with that. He had good instincts, and I trusted him to handle whatever it was. I was a bit miffed that he'd gone without me, but whatever, I guess. But as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, I began to get worried. Guess I would have to go after him after all.

I tried to get Leopold to tell me whatever he had told the Doctor. Again. And again. I didn't have any luck, obviously, so I resorted to trying to figure it out for myself.

So, I began wandering around the house with Nannerl in tow.

"Was this your brother's room?" I asked the nervous woman, who wasn't at all happy about going against her father to help me, even if she wasn't actually being _helpful_.

"Yes, miss." She hovered behind me, wringing her hands as I went straight in without the slightest hesitation.

I paced the room, trying to notice everything. I knew I wasn't amazing at it, but I was trying. The kid's room was about as you'd expect a twelve year old music genius' room to be; sort of clean, music sheets and blots of ink all over the desk, a handful of instruments that I didn't really care to identify, and several pairs of socks sticking out from under the bed.

"Buffy, _please_ ," Nannerl whined, still hovering in the doorway. "What do you hope to find? Can you not just wait for the Doctor to return?"

"All this waiting is driving me insane," I retorted, picking up a stack of sheet music to see if there was anything underneath. There wasn't. "He figured it out really fast, so maybe if I just knew some of what he did… I could figure out where he went." I whirled around to face her, surprising both her and myself, because she had moved to stand directly behind me without my noticing. "You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you?"

"No," she said, just a bit too quickly.

I narrowed my eyes and took a half step closer. "Nannerl?"

She looked away guiltily. God, it was like dealing with my brothers when they didn't want to fess up to stealing my leftovers.

"Nannerl, please," I pressed, switching tactics; demanding to pleading. "What happened when your brother disappeared?"

She shook her head, though I could tell her resolve was weakening. "My father wouldn't tell you… No, neither should I."

"Please! The Doctor could be in danger." He _had_ been gone for quite a while.

"I-"

"I'm the Doctor's companion," I insisted, both to myself and to her. "It's my _job_ to help him when I can. If something's happened to him, it's my fault."

My heart froze. What if something did happen to the Doctor? Not necessarily now, in this place and time. But _anywhere_ and when. I thought about how long the Doctor's timeline was; how many times he'd barely escaped death; how many lives he'd saved. So… if he died… The only genuine thing different in this universe was _me_. The cracks in the universe were infested, but the current theory was that I was here to fix them. So if the Doctor died, it would be because of _me_. This universe would die, over and over again, and it would be my fault.

"Oh, God. It _would be my fault_."

I tried to push the thought away. My stomach was churning with anxiety and I was getting nauseous. Puking would do nothing to help at the moment.

Nannerl's face shifted, anxious and pitying. I perked up when she started to speak. "My brother had just had an argument with my father. About what, I'm not sure. He locked himself in his room. My father was attempting to coax him into unlocking it, when my brother began crying out for help. By the time my father managed to break down the door, my brother was gone."

I frowned, thinking. "So, not out the door… How else could they take him?" I rushed to the far side of the room, where a square window sat dead center in the wall. "Window, of course. Only other point of exit, right?"

"Yes, miss."

I unlatched the window and leaned halfway out. Cool evening air wafted in, clearing the smell of paper, dust, and ink from my senses. It really was lovely. I definitely wouldn't mind exploring more. After I found the Doctor, of course. I studied the window sill closely for any sign of struggle.

"Do you know anything else? Anything, well, _weird_."

"Weird?"

"Yeah. Weird. Strange. Anything not normal would be helpful."

Nannerl shuffled around behind me. "Well, I suppose there was a light…"

"Light?" A dark streak caught my attention. I ran a finger along it, and something dark and powdery came away.

"Yes. It was red and came from under the doorway. I was in the hall, so I saw it as my father did."

"Ash. No… soot," I determined. "Look, and some of the paint has been peeled off. Not peeled, _burned_. Okay. Come on. What else. Red light. What else around here is red. Have you heard anything about red light recently? Anything weird?"

"No, I don't think so." The young woman was beginning to look at me like I had sprouted a second head.

"Seriously!" I sighed. "The Doctor worked this out and was going after it in less than ten minutes. What am I missing? What about sounds? Did you guys hear anything weird while the kidnapping was happening?"

"You mean other than my brothers screams?"

"Duh," I snipped impatiently.

"No… well…"

"Well what?"

"There was a sort of ...hissing."

"Hissing? What kind of hissing?"

"I don't know… just… _hissing_."

"Like, cat hissing?" I prompted. "Snake hissing? Bug hissing? People hissing?"

"No!" She thought I was ridiculous, that much was certain. "Like… hissing and crackling. Like… a fire!"

"Fire!" I mused. "That makes sense with the soot and the red light. With no other options, let's take it dead literally. Where near here is a place with a lot of fire?"

"You are joking. Are you saying fire stole my brother?"

"No. Maybe." I hesitated. "I don't know. Could be fire. Could be something that lives in fire. No, I'm not joking. Just answer the question."

"Oh, I don't know! Lots of people use fire!"

"Yeah. But somewhere that uses fire more than anywhere else."

_**~0~0~0~** _

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_**~0~0~0~** _

The air around the steel mill was hot and sticky, a far cry from the pleasant breeze I had enjoyed earlier. I was standing outside the fence that surrounded the building, gazing in a hoping that my deduction had been correct. Otherwise, I had crossed town for nothing and it was back to square one. The steel mill was the best place Nannerl and I could come up with. I had asked her to come with me, but she flatly refused.

I ran my fingers along the rough wood separating me from the place I needed to search. There was a guard at the gate. My first thought was to lie my way inside, but then I realized that that was most likely what the Doctor had done. So if he was in trouble, then it would probably be better if I stayed off the radar whoever it was. I hadn't brought my psychic paper, anyhow. Or my sonic pen.

That was incredibly stupid of me. I _really_ should start carrying them.

My one true asset hung heavily around my neck. The metal medallion was still cool against my chest despite having been in direct contact with my skin for the majority of a day, hidden by the fabric of my dress.

I hated the idea of using it. I hated even _carrying_ it.

But there really wasn't a whole lot of choice. Despite my unpleasant experiences, it was still probably the safest way to explore somewhere that I wasn't supposed to be.

I was dragged forward into the world of ghosts and would-be's. I barely felt the mist of the fence as I passed through it without the slightest hinderance. The building was even more foreboding in this plane, as were the inner walls and objects within it. It was sort of like looking at a shadowy x-ray of the entire structure, except with different layers of it coming in and out of focus as my attention shifted between them.

I grit my teeth, took a moment to gather my resolve, and made my way through the building. The place hadn't been there for an incredibly long amount of time, a year or so, perhaps, so I didn't have to bother with doors or walls. Trying to go downstairs, into a section of the building that sat below ground, was much more difficult. While the building was more or less new, the Earth was not. It took me five minutes of trying to _will_ the ground to be transparent before the manipulator got the gist of what I was trying to do. The ground beneath my feet gave away, and I fell straight through the now-accessible stairwell. I tumbled to a stop at the bottom of the now-highlighted stairs, nursing a scraped shin and a bruised pride. Thankfully, the Blank people wandering around carrying tools and things had been unable to see my blunder.

I studied one of the Blanks curiously as it twisted a knob, tightening a mold. There was something... off… about them. They were moving oddly, mechanically. I shook the feeling off. Find the Doctor first, other stuff later.

I found myself in a very large space, packed full of machinery. The room was ugly and busy, and even through the chill of the Otherside, I could almost feel the heat of the molten metal dripping and sloshing around in large vats, waiting to be dipped and shaped into whatever was demanded of it.

On instinct, I found myself weaving through the room towards the large furnaces on the far side of the room. Furnace equals fire; fire equal kidnapping fire-creatures. Or at least I hoped.

For once in my life, my instincts were dead-on. The Blank-form of a man was tied, hands above his head, to a rail that was dangerously close to where a vat was being slowly wheeled out of the furnaces. A few inches further to the left, and he could be grievously burned.

The Blank was struggling against his bonds, wriggling his way down as far as he could in an attempt to get a small object that was just out of reach with his feet.

I was sure that I recognized the Blank's broad shoulders, so, after noting that there was no one else around to notice, I padded over, exited the Otherside, and scooped up the item.

"Is this what you're after?" I asked, staring smugly into the Doctor's wide eyes.

The Doctor, startled by my sudden appearance, gaped at me for a moment before composing himself.

"What the hell took you so long?" He accused, covering his previous shock with the usual rudeness.

"You didn't exactly leave a forwarding address," I retorted, mopping at my brow. Damn, it was hot. Sweat was beading along my chest and dripping down my neck while my elaborate hairstyle was beginning to curl and fall out of place.

"Four hours!" The Doctor snipped back, tugging at his bonds. I placed the small object, which turned out to be a remote control-looking contraption, at his feet and began attacking the rope wrapped tightly around his wrists. "Did it really take four hours to work it out?"

The rope loosened and fell away. I put my hands on my hips. "Hey, _you're_ the one that ditched me without telling me where you were going."

The Doctor leapt to his feet, plucking up the remote control-thing as he went. "You seemed to be having a good time. Didn't want to interrupt your music session. Figured I could sort this out and be back before long."

"What is 'this', anyway?" I tugged at the pins and ties that were keeping my hair in place before using one of the ribbons to pull it all into a ponytail.

The Doctor sprang into action, rushing around to the other side of the furnace to a door that I hadn't noticed.

"Prylishtin slave vessel," he explained grimly as we went. "This whole mill is a set up. The workers look human, but are just hard-life holograms."

"I thought there was something strange about them."

The sonic made quick work of the lock, allowing the door to open with a painful creak. The room beyond was much different to the other; instead of smoky metal and primitive machinery, the place was sleek. The walls appeared to be made of molten glass, lined with panels made of lava rock; the floor of brimstone. Waves of heat rolled out of the doorway, thick and tainted to the point that it was difficult to breathe.

The Doctor stepped through anyway, and I followed.

"They trade in talent, the Prylishtins do," the Doctor continued, ignoring the intense heat. "They scour the universe for performers, people they can sell to entertainment agencies, stuff like that. Earth is an easy stop, especially at this point in history."

"What are we going to do about it?" I was starting to feel dizzy, but I carried on anyway. "Is Mozart still okay?"

"I expect so. Can't exactly sell him for his music if he's damaged." The Doctor pointed the remote device at a closed door, which then slid away obediently. "They've got him in a cold storage container. This here gives me control of most of their ship's settings," The Doctor held up the remote for me to see. "Their technology isn't incredibly sophisticated. Bless. But I didn't account for the hard-life holograms. Got stuck, y'see."

We continued on down a long hallway. Thankfully, the air was getting cooler. The walls were darker and more rocky, like the molten material that made up the walls was beginning to cool. I breathed a sigh of relief as the air became more tolerable.

"Through here," the Doctor grunted. He guided me into a room constructed purely of stone, bathed in red light. The room was divided into two parts, separated by a glass wall. On the other side of the wall was a young boy, curled on a ball in the floor.

"Wolfgang?" I tried to cross the room to the glass prison, but the Doctor snagged my arm, jerking me back.

I turned to protest, but his actions suddenly made sense. In the opposite corner of the room, on the same side of the glass as us, was what I assumed to be a Prylishtin. It was a bizarre creature, dark, as if made of volcanic ash. It's eyes burned bright red, like two embers burning at the center of a heap of coals. It stood in a cloud of red light and smoke, it's mouth opening as a glowing gash, spitting out a series of hisses.

The sound must've made sense to the Doctor. The Time Lord frowned.

"Oh, don't give me that," he retorted, staring the creature down. "I told you your options when we last met; shunt off, or I'll stop you."

The creature hissed again.

"Oi! Language!" The Doctor held up the remote threateningly.

The alien snarled and lunged.

I flinched and squeaked, but the Doctor didn't even blink. He locked eyes with the Prylishtin, and pressed a button.

The glass separating us from Wolfgang shattered, and the three of us were hit by a wave of freezing air. My breath left me in a gasp, frost instantly forming on my skin.

The Prylishtin screamed, and then vanished in a puff of smoke, extinguished by the sudden freeze.

"They need intense cold to counter the intense heat," the Doctor explained, breath condensing in the air. "Most of their prisoners can't stand the temperatures, so they freeze them to keep them from being damaged by the journey."

A deep rumble shook the ground beneath our feet. I looked down and saw cracks beginning to form in the rocky floor. Chips of stone began raining down from the walls and ceiling.

The Doctor looked up in alarm as stone dust showered his head. "Unfortunately, the ship can't stand the cold outside the containment unit. It's losing integrity."

"Then shouldn't we _go_?" I urged, sidestepping as a large chunk of ceiling that came crashing down less than a foot to my right.

The Doctor sprung forward, scooped the unconscious Wolfgang up in his arms like he weighed nothing, and took off at a run. I was careful to stay on his heels as we dashed through the disintegrating ship, dodging chunks of stone and leaping over cracks. The once molten walls were cooling, red hot fluid hardening into crumbling stone, giving the illusion that the dark rock was leaching over the surface of the lava like a rash.

We didn't stop running until we were outside of the building altogether. Once the Doctor seemed to think we were safe, he paused and looked back at the building. We watched in fascination as the fake steel mill cracked and twisted, sinking down into the earth as the ship beneath it crumbled into nothing.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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Cool night air caressed my cheeks, sweet, with just a hint of chimney smoke. I leaned against the railing, watching horses pulling carriages on the street below, the sounds of their hooves on stone mixed with the music that drifted out of the apartment behind me.

Wolfgang had woken by the time the Doctor and I had brought him back home. The boy couldn't remember a thing, and was bouncing around like a kid his age should within the hour. His extremely grateful father and tearful sister then insisted that we stay for dinner, which we readily accepted. A handful of other friends of the family were invited over for the meal, and after everyone had their fill, we all sat listening to the Mozart family work their magic.

There were enough people milling around inside the Mozart residence that I didn't feel guilty about slipping away for some air. The balcony was lovely, private enough for a think without completely excluding me from the music.

Despite the peaceful evening, my thoughts were chaotic. Real monsters of this universe mingled with ones of my own creation, weaving terrible scenarios though my mind until I couldn't have a single coherent thought without tripping over one of them.

Through the minefield that was my own head, I was aware of the Doctor sidling up beside me. The ancient Time Lord rested his elbows on the rail, his eyes turned up to survey the stars.

"Nice night," he commented, still looking up. I hummed in agreement.

We stood in silence for a while, each of us watching as the city continued with its nightlife and the stars above crept slowly across the sky.

"Tomorrow is her last performance," I mused sadly, listening as Nannerl's wondrous music drifted from inside.

"Yeah," the Doctor confirmed. "She never stops composing, though."

"She ends up forgotten," I added bitterly. "Most of her music is lost. I didn't even know she existed before today."

"She's happy now, though. And we'll remember her, won't we? So long as we live, so will she."

I hummed in acknowledgement and we lapsed back into silence.

"I really don't have a choice, do I?" I murmured eventually, watching as a man and lady hailed a horse-drawn cab and clambered into it.

The Doctor drew a shaky breath, understanding what I was referring to. "Whatever brought you into this universe didn't do it by accident. You were chosen, probably because of your foreknowledge, and then dropped on my doorstep cos I'm the only one that knows enough about all this to help you through it. And get you from place to place."

I nodded, taking that as an answer. We shared another moment of silence before the Doctor spoke again.

"I can't make you fight," he explained, voice heavy and soft. "I'm tired of watching the young forced into wars they aren't ready for. You'll have to make that decision on your own. I can't make it for you. I _won't_ make it for you." He paused. "I didn't mean what I said before. You can stay with me, whatever you choose. You aren't here to help me, I'm here to help you. And I won't think any less of you if you choose not to fight."

I didn't want to. I didn't. But it wasn't about want, was it? "Those people on the ships… it was my fault, wasn't it? It's my fault that they're dead."

The Doctor shifted from foot to foot, but didn't respond. It was all the confirmation I needed, solidifying the knot in my stomach. I had already known. How could I not?

"And the other one will do the same to the city," I continued. "More will come, until there's no one left."

The Doctor nodded slowly.

"That's all there is to it, I guess."

_**~0~0~0~** _

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_**~0~0~0~** _

I stood before the jagged crack in the Otherside, my hair blowing slightly in the non-winds. The same creature as before was chewing at the edge of the universe, tearing the gash wider as it went. I watched it, formulating a plan as it fed.

_**~0~0~0~0** _

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_I had dawdled in my room for as long as I dared; changing into a pair of jeans, picking up clothes I'd left on the floor, making the bed._

_The chunky grey blanket flopped back down onto the couch with a puff of air. I stood there for a moment, toying with the hem, sinking my fingers into the weave, taking comfort in the texture. A soft humming sound came from somewhere over my shoulder, causing me to jump in surprise._

_I turned to see a small brown leather bag on the coffee table that definitely hadn't been there a moment ago. It was about the size of a satchel and had way too many straps. Realizing that this was probably the TARDIS' doing, I picked it up to examine it more closely. At a guess, it was meant to be worn around a leg rather than around the shoulders._

_Yep. The long strap at the top wrapped perfectly around my hips, and the two shorter ones secured the rest of the bag to my thigh._

_And guess what?_

_Bigger on the inside._

_So in went my sonic screwdriver, the medical scanner, the psychic paper, a bottle of water, a few granola bars, and a new phone that had magically materialized on the table just as the bag had._

_Feeling much more confident than before, I turned to make my way back to the console room, pausing when a glimmer of silver caught my eye._

_After a moment's consideration, I snatched up the knife I picked up from Ching Shih._

_There was a sheath for it in the bag; covering the blade perfectly while leaving the handle exposed in a perfect position to draw at a moment's notice._

_The Doctor probably wouldn't like it. But I felt that I was well within my rights._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The Doctor had suggested killing the Chronomite in order to get it over as quickly as possible. Trying to trick it out of our universe, although more humane, left open a greater period of time for me to be injured by it. At first, I had planned to do as he suggested, but standing there, watching it feed, I wasn't sure I could just walk up to it and stab it. Maybe if it was attacking me, I could. But now, it just wasn't interested.

So that left trying to coax it back through the crack. I twirled a strand of hair around my finger, trying to work out the best way to do it.

Bait, maybe. If I had something that it wanted, I could probably toss it though and do a few big stitches, or at least just enough that I couldn't get back through. But what did it want?

Edge of the universe energy?

I edged over to the crack, as far away from the Chronomite as I could be while still staying close enough for my purposes.

The creature growled, making my heart stop and my blood freeze. But then it kept eating.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and forced myself back into motion. Moving quickly, I used the manipulator to gather a large wad of interdimensional thread. The substance tingled in my palm, like I was holding a ball of electricity, minus the pain.

Drawing my knife, I took a deep breath, and reached out with the blade to tap the Chronomite on the back of its head.

I sprang back as it whirled around, massive teeth bared and snarling. I had to force myself not to run or pass out on the spot.

Instead, I held out the wad of glowing thread. "Here, is this what you want?"

The creature continued growling, but stalked towards me slowly. I held the ball out to the side. It followed. Good, it wanted it, and not me.

The creature increased its pace, taking three quick steps before lunging at my arm. With a surprising amount of speed, I threw the wad through the crack and lept sideways. The Chronomite scrambled through after the thread, tearing the gash just a bit wider as it went.

I sprung into action. Within five seconds, I had three new stitches on each side of the crack, and the medallion was slowly cranking the thread tighter. When there was about an inch left, the creature's foot reached back through, scrabbling at the edges of the rift, trying to regain a hold on the universe. Panicking, I lashed out at it with my knife.

A few drops of blood fell. The foot recoiled. The gap shut forever.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

I couldn't sleep that night, so I found myself wandering back into the console room. The Doctor was on a ladder, doing something with a wad of wires.

"Where are we?" I asked, pacing around to where the ladder wobbled somewhat precariously. I steadied it while the Doctor clamboured back down.

"Nowhere in particular at the moment. Just drifting." The Time Lord hopped off the last rung and made his way back over to the console, carrying some sort of light bulb, which he plugged into a slot on the controls.

"Yeah, but _where_?"

"Space. Low in Earth's orbit."

I bounced on my toes. "Could I take a look?"

He glanced up at me with a bemused expression. "What for?"

"2018, remember? I've never seen a planet from space before."

The Doctor brightened up considerably at that. A small smile danced around his lips. "Go on then." He jerked his head towards the door.

I didn't hesitate to hurry across the room and, with only a moment's hesitation, opened the door.

A small gasp of shock and delight escaped me, because _holy crap_.

I'd seen space in pictures and movies, infinite darkness spliced drastically with the blinding blue horizon of the planet to the left. But now it was just so… so…

Whatever word I was trying to pull from the recesses of my mind was immediately forgotten when I felt a firm shove from behind, causing me to stagger out of the safety of the blue box and into the void beyond.

A startled squeak tore from my throat at the thought of spiraling out into the cold nothingness of the vacuum, and for a split second I genuinely thought that was how I was going to die. But before I could drift out of the air shield, a strong hand snagged my ankle.

I looked back to see the Doctor, standing in the TARDIS doorway, staring up at me with a shit-eating grin.

"Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?" I called down accusingly.

"Just trying to help," he responded innocently. "Buffy Reid's first time in space! Better be good!"

I couldn't help but laugh. All the adrenaline and sheer _beauty_ of the planet spinning below floored me. I could pick out storms and mountain ranges and bodies of water that I had only ever seen up close or in pictures. A glorious blue marble in a vast expanse of nothingness. Small and unimportant, but out of the billion trillion other planets I could visit in the universe, there would never be one quite like this. Somewhere below, far too small to see, where millions of people living in houses, driving cars, dancing and shopping and falling in love and _living_. Once upon a time, it had all seemed so big. So boring. So _empty_. But now, for the first time, I was entirely humbled by the unbridled vitality the planet emanated.

For the first time in nearly two years, I felt that I was where I was supposed to be.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	18. Some Seen, Others Missed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until I’ve caught up with what I already have written.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, language.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Eighteen: Some Seen, Others Missed** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The warm lights flickered nonchalantly in time with the pulsating music, giving the room a cozy yet busy aura without completely dominating the atmosphere. We were at a classy sort of alien club, complete with humans and aliens meandering about in elegant, semi-formal dresses and sharp suits. I sat at a high topped table, happily sipping at my fruity drink, watching some kind of alien ribbon dance that was being performed by a blue woman with five arms. The Doctor, naturally, had wandered off. I glanced his way from time to time, checking up on him as he ambled around, talking to anyone who would tolerate his presence.

Warmth flooded my body as I watched him.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

" _Sit down!" The Doctor ordered, pointing to the small wooden chair in the corner of the room._

_I scowled at him moodily, crossing my arms across my chest and trying to ignore how soaked I was._

" _I'm fine-"_

" _Sit!"_

_I grumbled and stomped over to slouch into the chair. For a royal castle, the place sorely lacked comforts. Or maybe that's a Fifth Century thing._

_The Doctor matched my scowl and dug out a package of baby wipes from the depths of his coat pockets._

" _You just carry those around with you?"_

" _Really? That's what you surprises you? Time traveling aliens dressed up as dragons and you're worried about the wipes?" The Time Lord huffed and pulled one out with a flourish, leaning in and trying to wipe some of the mud and smeared makeup from my face like an exasperated parent._

_I snatched it away from him and began scrubbing at my own face. The Doctor heaved a long suffering sigh and began attacking my hair, coming his fingers through it roughly in an attempt to tug it into some kind of order._

" _Quiddit!" I whined, squirming._

" _You look like you've been dragged backwards through a bush."_

" _That's because I was!"_

_The Doctor plucked a tiny green burr from my red tangles and held it in front of my eyes. "Clearly."_

" _They don't care how I look!" I cried, trying to duck away from his hands._

" _Yes they do. That's why they told me to get you cleaned up."_

" _Fine,_ I _don't care."_

" _You will when they try to kick you out of court for lookin' like a wild thing."_

" _Well, it's_ their _fault, anyway."_

_The Doctor scoffed. "I've had children that fussed less than this."_

_I pouted as the Doctor gave up on my hair and came back around to check on how I was doing on my face._

" _I think you're makin' it worse." He winced and held his hand out for the wipes, which I relinquished with a scowl._

" _It's_ fine _," I whined, squirming as he scrubbed at my under eyes roughly._

" _You look like a raccoon."_

" _That's not my fault!"_

" _Yes, it is. I told you not to wear makeup, 'cos we were gonna have to get wet at some point on this trip."_

" _Hey, I don't tell you what to do with your face, you don't tell me what to do with mine."_

_The Doctor sighed and tossed the soiled baby wipe away carelessly. "That'll have to do."_

_I bounded back up to my feet. "Do I pass?"_

" _No. Well, for a milkmaid, maybe. Someone that works with the livestock."_

" _Thanks."_

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

A soft pulse of concern flickered in my chest when I saw him leaning up against the bar, chatting with a hulking mass of feathers and teeth. Not that I thought he was any danger from the alien, as I knew the Doctor well enough to know that he could both handle himself and that he could read a situation well enough to know when he was aggravating someone. I frowned slightly, running my eyes along the Time Lord's face, noting how pale and strained he looked despite the smile he had plastered across his features.

A tall waitress with insect eyes refilled my drink. I thanked her distractedly and returned my attention to my friend.

My observation was not a new one, it was something I had noticed several weeks prior. By my estimates, I had been on the TARDIS approximately six months, though I honestly had no idea. After you've been in the Time Vortex for a while, you begin measuring time by trips and locations instead of days, weeks, and minutes. The change in mentality didn't cause me much bother; I had never been very good at keeping track of time, anyway.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_I slipped sideways with a frightened yelp, missing the sharpened blade by a hair's breadth. Thankfully, regular exercise, both in the Otherside and in the normal world, if you could call it that, had made me fast. The armored man, an important person's guard from whatever century this was- I wasn't even positive which country we were in - was bulky, so I could use my much smaller mass to my advantage._

_I ducked around an impressive looking chair, so impressive that it was probably some kind of throne. The guard's blade slashed down, missing me and biting deep into the carefully polished wood. I danced away, using the few stolen seconds to locate the Doctor._

_The Time Lord was faring better than me, but was too preoccupied to be any help. There had been two guards in the spacious stone room when we had broken in, one had gone for the Doctor - who, with centuries of experience in a vast variety of forms of combat - had snagged the human's blade, tore it from his grip, and promptly knocked the attacker out cold with the hilt. Frustratingly enough, it was up to me to keep the other one busy while the Doctor tried to diffuse what he referred to as a 'Temporal Hyperscope'- which was basically a kind of Time Travel Escape Pod. Long story short, the occupants were dead, the pod was set to self destruct- which made sense, I guess; you didn't want future technology falling in the hands of people from the past- but the important Lord guy of this region had found it in the middle of the forest and brought it back as a trophy. Now, in the middle of town, a lot of people would die._

" _Are you done yet?" I called breathlessly, starting to tire._

" _Nearly there," the Time Lord grunted. He cast the barest of glances at me before shouting, "Duck!"_

_I had been so caught up with what he was doing that I had nearly forgotten about my more immediate problem. The guard I had been avoiding swung the blade in a wide arc, aiming for my head. More out of instinct than anything, I slipped into the Otherside._

_It was a fantastic trick. Useful for last-ditch escape routes, awkward to explain to people who believed it was witchcraft. The guard's sword sliced thin air, and I watched his Blank-form stumble to the ground in shock, gazing around the space where I had been with what I imagined to be awestruck expression._

_I slipped around behind him and recrossed the dimensions. He was still kneeling on the floor, groping the air before him like he might be able to discover where I'd gone._

_I tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me?"_

_The man whipped back around. All the blood drained from his face. Instantly, sword forgotten, he took off at a sprint, legs spurred faster by absolute terror._

_When he was gone, the Doctor glanced back at me from where he was tangled in wires. "You couldn't have done that sooner?"_

_I shrugged._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

However long it was, I had come to know the Doctor fairly well, and most certainly in ways that even the biggest Whovians couldn't imagine. If I could find a way to contact them, the first thing I would inform them of would be that the Doctor _does_ , in fact , wear clothes other than the stereotypical outfit. That's not to say that he doesn't wear his usual leather jacket and jumper _a lot_ , because he does. But it wasn't uncommon for him to wander about the TARDIS, tinkering with this and that, in a t-shirt and sweatpants. I almost had a heart attack the first time I walked into the console room to see him in a bright yellow sweatshirt, looking very much like the bananas he loved so much.

And yeah, the banana thing is entirely true.

As it turns out, the reason he wears different combinations of the same outfit so often is because, beyond that one style, he has absolutely no idea how to dress. Is it acceptable to wear pajama pants and a plaid button up in public? Do humans in the Twenty first century normally wear chain mail and viking helmets? Who knows? Certainly not him. I had to stop him from wearing some ludicrous combination of clothes on more than one occasion, and if I tried to explain it to him, he would only get annoyed and confused.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_This part of the department store was dark, the only light filtered in from the warped glass of the shop windows. I moved carefully, picking my way around clothing displays, my boots scarcely making a sound on the laminate floors so as not to disturb any other people that might've had the same idea. The thought sent a shiver down my spine._

_I jumped three feet in the air when my train of thought was interrupted by a loud clang followed by assorted clattering. I turned around to see the Doctor in the ruins of a clothing rack, frantically trying to disentangle himself from the hangers and undergarments that had fallen on his head._

_I couldn't help but laugh when he got stuck on a large bra, it being caught in a hanger with the strap wrapped around his head._

_He scowled a little and managed to extract himself from the offending object, only to blush when he realized what it was._

" _Uhh…" followed by awkward eye contact with me._

_I smirked. "Booby trap."_

_He rolled his eyes._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

I'd grown a lot in the last few months, I'm proud to say. While I could still be a bit slow when put on the spot, I discovered I could act pretty well on gut instinct. This had been useful in dealing with hostile aliens and the Chronomites. As long as I didn't have to verbally respond or think about what I was doing too much, I was fine. The Doctor occasionally commented that I overthink on social encounters, to which I retorted that that was his job.

Then I'd remember how many times the Doctor's people skills had landed us on death row or in some kind of prison, and realize that we both sucked.

Although I would sometimes find myself ducking behind the Doctor in intense or bewildering situations, I wasn't nearly as frightened as I used to be. Though I suppose having to confront weird alien monsters from the outside of the universe increases your fear threshold.

Most of the time I could trick the Chronomites through the rifts the way I had in China, other times I wasn't as lucky.

I tried not to think too hard about the moral implications of killing them.

Sometimes they would lunge for me instead of the bait. The tactic at that point was similar to the one a bullfighter might use. Jump out of the way at the last possible moment. And stab.

It was pretty effective.

I refuse to look up the frequency that matadors are gored.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_Most of the time, I was fast enough._

_The Chronomites, as scary and quick as they were, I was faster. They were single minded and easy to trick back to the other side of reality._

_Like I said, usually._

_I winced as the Doctor ran the whirring green instrument up and down my arm, soldering and growing back my flesh as he went. Not because it hurt anymore, as the Doctor had already given me one hell of a painkiller. It was just really, REALLY unpleasant to look at._

_Despite the Doctor's best efforts to stop the bleeding, crimson red still oozed from the deep gashes that ran vertically almost the entire length of my arm._

_I hadn't been quick enough._

_I had been lucky, really. It could have been so much worse. Instead of going for the bait, the monster had gone for me instead. The blow had been aimed for my chest. If I hadn't moved, it would've torn my heart out like my rib cage had been made of butter._

" _You're getting careless," The Doctor broke the silence. I realized that was the first time he'd spoken since I'd stumbled back out of the Otherside, bleeding and going into shock._

_No, I take that back. The first thing that came out of his mouth was my name, followed by this tiny little, barely whispered 'Oh, God'._

" _Yeah, I guess."_

_The Doctor was angry, it was etched into every line on his face._

" _You're gonna get yourself killed." A statement. A fact._

_I shrugged, unsure of what else to say. "I mean- I'll try not to-"_

_A growl rumbled in the back of his throat. That's all he did for a solid five minutes. Fix my arm and growl. And yeah, Time Lords can growl. They sound like cats. At least this particular one did, and he did it quite a lot._

_When he finally did speak again, it wasn't kindly. "You're not goin' back in there again."_

_I let out a startled laugh. "I HAVE to!"_

" _No. You're too clumsy. You humans are all thumbs and left feet. You're done."_

_I shook my head, getting angry as well. "That's not what you said when you BEGGED- no- ORDERED me to do it before, and we knew how dangerous it was then!"_

_A muscle twitched in the Doctor's jaw and he returned his attention to my arm, which was finally starting to mend._

_I watched him for a few moments, my own anger fading. The look on his face when I'd come bursting back through to the regular dimension, bleeding and on the verge of losing consciousness, would forever be seared into my mind._

_He had ran toward me before I could fall, scooping me up bridal style and taking off at a run. The trip passed in a haze, and the next thing I knew was the TARDIS medbay, where I was sitting upright, completely free of pain._

_We hadn't been parked close, either. We'd walked a long way to get to the tear. He'd carried me several miles, just to make sure I didn't bleed out._

_I reached out and cupped his face, brushing my thumb rhythmically along his cheek. He raised his eyes to meet mine. The normal ice blue of his eyes had transformed into soft baby blue. He was able to communicate a hundred lifetimes worth of emotion through that single look. Things I wasn't sure I was even capable of feeling._

_I'm not sure how long we stayed like that._

" _This is gonna happen again," he said eventually._

_I nodded slowly, not having anything to say to ease his worry._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The more time I spent with him, the less I saw him as an intimidating, god-tier, fictional character and the more I realized that he was just a _person_. Just a big, stupid, lovable, hulking, puppy dog of a person. Sure, he was even more brilliant than the tv show could ever portray, but it also left out an entire dimension of his personality, one that could only be seen in the down time that most tv shows leave out. He got frustrated and cranky. He was constantly forgetting things, so much that if I saw his sonic laying abandoned somewhere I would shove it in my pocket for when he came bustling through looking for it. Sometimes in the middle of the night I would be woken up by the Doctor barging into my room and flopping down on the bed to show me some neat new gadget that he'd just made and was oh, so excited about. Once he spent a solid week sprawled out, unmoving, in the kitchen floor, attempting to put together a million piece puzzle. He would occasionally come up and ask for a hug, but wouldn't say why. At least once a week he would jump out from behind a door or around a corner to scare the daylights out of me, and then usher me to an already made cup of coffee or tea. He was incredible. He was brilliant. He was lonely. He was sweet. He was sad. He was the best friend I'd ever had.

Despite all this, there was still so much I didn't know about him.

But, then again, how could you ever know everything about a creature that had lived for nearly a thousand years?

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_When I woke up, I knew it was the middle of the night. Even in the TARDIS, which doesn't actually have a designated day or night, I could tell I hadn't been asleep nearly long enough for it to be considered time to wake up. The stars on my holographic ceiling still shone brightly, not yet competing with the artificial dawn._

_One of my bedside lamps was on, the one that sat, often untouched, on the opposite side of the bed than the one I usually used._

_The bed beside me was dipped down, telling me that I wasn't alone._

_I knew who it was._

_I rolled over anyway to face the Doctor. He was sitting on top of the blankets, leaning back against the headboard. He was still in his day clothes, though he had shed his jacket and boots. His toes wiggled in their maroon socks._

_As odd as it might've once seemed to wake up with the Doctor in my bed, this wasn't the first time it had happened. In fact, it wasn't even entirely uncommon. More and more since my injury in the Otherside, I would wake to find the Doctor sitting chastely beside me, wide awake, guarding me from the night._

_I never asked why. He would probably stop doing it if I did. I always supposed that it was because he was lonely, or had a bad dream, or just felt like I shouldn't be alone. Whatever the reason, I was starting to appreciate it._

_The Doctor met my eyes. He always looked so much older like this. Maybe it was the shadows cast by my lamp, or the way the fake stars reflected in his eyes, but he always looked a thousand years older than he did in the day._

_I would always have to remind myself that he really was that old._

_The Doctor reached out and brushed a strand of hair that had escaped my pony tail away from my face, fingertips grazing my temple._

_I instantly went back to sleep._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The Doctor was very, very old. Sometimes you could see it, sometimes you'd swear he was a gigantic puppy in a Time Lord costume.

These days, it was usually the former.

The Doctor was struggling. The more time I spent around him the more obvious it was. The instability that I noticed during my first days with him was more prominent than ever. There were bad days. Days when I wouldn't see him at all, no matter how hard I searched for him in the TARDIS. Days when he would have horrible mood swings and go from giggling like a schoolgirl to surly and verbally aggressive. There were times when he would just stare, lost in his own mind.

I returned my worrying stare back to my friend. You wouldn't think it to look at him now, all casual lounging and smiles, but he was exhausted. I saw it every time he thought I wasn't looking. I only wished that I could be of more help. Sure, I tried to be as supportive as I could; to be forgiving every time he was more rude than necessary or had one of his funny mood swings; tried to cheer him up to the best of my ability.

But it wasn't enough.

Thankfully, I was both watching the Doctor and thinking about his funny behavior, because if I hadn't, I might've missed it.

A new alien, presumably male, human-ish except with an extra arm and no apparent mouth, was slinking up behind the Doctor. The Time Lord, who was still pretty engaged in the conversation with the feathery person, didn't notice the newcomer tip a small vial of yellow liquid into his drink.

It took me a moment to process what I saw, and another moment to decide whether or not I had actually seen it. And unfortunately, in those few measly seconds, the Doctor let out a bark of laughter at something the feather-creature had said, plucked up his half-forgotten beverage, and downed about half of it in one gulp.

I was frozen at my table in horror, unable to do much beyond let out a breathless gasp and watch as the Doctor frowned down into his glass, immediately noticing that something wasn't right with it. His eyes widened and he glanced around frantically until his eyes fell upon the mouthless alien.

I couldn't hear what the Doctor said from across the room, but I imagine it was angry and accusatory. I wasn't sure if the alien said anything in response, but the creature roughly grabbed the Time Lord's upper arm and pinned it to the table so their faces were only a few inches apart.

I was suddenly at my friend's side, having snapped out of my stupor and crossed the room without realizing it.

"Hey! Fuck off!" I snapped, trying to wedge myself between the pair to push the aggressor away. But my demand was nearly lost in the beat of the music and the conversations between people that either hadn't noticed the situation or didn't care.

I suddenly realized how stupid my aggression was, and just how much bigger this alien was than me. I barely came up to the Doctor's shoulder; the top of the Doctor's head only reached the alien's chin. The thing ducked its head down in my direction and snarled mouthlessly in my face, which was barely level to the creature's chest.

"Leave her out of this!" The Doctor demanded, his voice strong despite the pain on his face. "Buffy, _back!_ "

I flinched behind the Doctor's broad shoulders, hardly daring to peer around him at the aggressor. The alien had a crushing grip on the Doctor's arm and I heard the air rush from the Time Lord's lungs as the creature squeezed.

I let out a squeak of protest. The Doctor's face had gone very pale and had taken on a green tinge.

"What've you done?" He protested, words beginning to slur together a bit.

The alien gave a rumbling, empty sound that sounded strangely like rocks tumbling around in a metal bucket. The Doctor had explained the fact that the TARDIS couldn't translate every language for me, as some languages were so different from mine that my brain literally couldn't make sense of it. Apparently this was such an occasion, and I'd never hated it more.

Fortunately, I guess, the Doctor could understand. He frowned, looking a bit shocked and, oddly, a little hurt.

"Fatal?" The Time Lord pressed, getting paler by the second.

 _God, no. Please, no_ , I mentally panicked as the creature garbled out another reply.

"But, _why_?"

For me, time was passing at the speed of molasses as I waited for the alien to gurgle it's response. Panic beat furiously in my chest like a caged bird, worsening exponentially as the Doctor looked more and more like he was going to be sick.

"Why not just kill me then?" Was the Doctor's quiet reply. The pain, guilt, and sadness in his eyes floored me. "You could've. Just been done with it."

The alien used its free hand to retrieve something from its coat pocket. Another vial. It was the same size and shape as the one he'd used to poison the Doctor; about the length of one of my fingers, bowed out at the bottom with a skinny neck and a small red stopper to keep the fluid from leaking out. Unlike the yellow one used before, it was Gatorade blue.

My hand twitched toward my knife, which was concealed within the small bag that I kept strapped to my leg, it's handle just beyond the mouth of the leather purse, perfect for a rapid draw.

The Doctor's beautiful blue eyes followed the vial as the creature set it carefully down on the wooden bar top, directly beside where the Doctor's arm was still pinned.

"Yeah," The Doctor admitted, his voice hardly a whisper, "I've thought about it."

Alarm bells were going off in my head. My hand slipped into my bag, my fingers wrapping around the leather handle as I weighed the possibilities of what the Doctor could be referring to.

I didn't like the way my mind filled in the blanks.

I flinched when the Doctor began to gag. I could feel his body, usually so sturdy beside mine, as it began to heave and shiver.

"Let me go," the Time Lord pleaded, tugging feebly against the alien's grip. "You got what you wanted. _Please_ , just let go."

The alien growled again, gripping my friend even tighter.

I'd had enough. The gleaming silver blade, which I kept carefully sharpened, slashed out and across the creature's forearm, biting deep and trailing green blood in its wake.

The alien gave a shout, or maybe a squawk, of pain and instinctively released the Doctor's arm. The Time Lord recoiled, newly freed hand clamped over his mouth and the other over his gut as he stumbled away, almost doubled completely over.

More angry than scared, I snarled up into the alien's disgusting, mouthless face to give the Doctor a moment to escape. Every curse, swear, and insult I could think of came tumbling out of my mouth in a wrathful rush. I wasn't sure if the alien could understand me, but he seemed too startled to offer any response, as he just stood there clutching his bleeding arm and staring at me with bewildered yellow eyes. He almost looked upset.

I made a rude gesture with both of my hands before whirling around and taking off in the direction that the Doctor had left in. I paused halfway across the room, staring around frantically for any sign of the leather clad alien.

The waitress that had been serving me earlier pointed towards the back left corner of the room. I gave her a quick nod and sprinted off, ducking around and behind the laughing and chattering aliens as they sat transfixed by the beautiful ribbon dancer.

The bathroom signs were weird for this place, a creature with five legs or a creature with two, each indicating a different preference of restroom. Beyond those two, which each had a line consisting of equally bizarre aliens, was what I supposed was probably either a family restroom or a handicap one, because the sign was different. Besides that, what drew my attention to it was the fact that it was still swinging back and forth on its hinges, like it had just been flung open hurriedly and not been closed back. A woman with tentacles was squirming away from it in a huff, looking embarrassed.

I pushed past her with the barest glance, ignoring the curses that the TARDIS was choosing not to translate.

"Doctor?" I called out, pushing the heavy door open. "Are you in here?"

The Doctor's dark figure contrasted starkly against the sterile white of the bathroom tile. He was on his knees, heaving over the toilet. I winced at the sound of sick hitting the water and his accompanying quiet gasps and wet sobs as he emptied the contents of his stomach.

I made sure to close the door properly and locked it before going to hover over him, unsure of how to help. I settled on squatting behind him and resting a hand between his shivering shoulder blades, rubbing large, soothing circles around on his broad back.

The Doctor stayed there for a long time, still heaving long after there was anything left to puke up. I gingerly rubbed the back of his head with my palm before lowering it to massage the nape of his neck, feeling the muscles there spasm and twitch as his body continued trying to dry heave up the toxin, just to make certain that done of it was left in his now-empty stomach.

Finally, mercifully, it seemed to end. The Doctor sagged forward, resting his forearms on the toilet seat, resting for a moment with his head bowed.

I stood, feeling a little shaky myself. Spotting a disposable cup dispenser on the wall, I helped myself to one and filled it up with water from the sink.

The Doctor scarcely glanced up at me when I offered him the small paper cup. He took it with a trembling hand. While he swished and spit, I took the liberty of digging through my purse for a mint. I'd gotten some while at some kind of interstellar gas station a few weeks back. The Doctor had teased me for it, claiming that I was the most stereotypical tourist ever while getting hot dogs and popcorn for himself.

The Doctor grimaced down into the toilet bowl at the contents, of which I was trying to ignore the smell. He flushed the toilet decisively before slowly finding his way back to his feet.

The Time Lord stepped past me to get to the sink, where he spent a great deal of time splashing water into his face.

Since he no longer seemed to be in any immediate danger, I didn't press. I hopped up on to the grey marble counter beside the sink, sitting with my back to the mirror, the outside of my left thigh brushing against his hip.

The Doctor turned off the faucet and I offered him a mint, which he declined with a shake of his head. The Time Lord braced his hands on either side of the sink, staring at his reflection.

"Doc?" I said, shattering the silence that had settled between us. I winced and lowered my voice even further. "Are you okay now?"

"Yeah." He didn't give me so much as a glance.

"What the hell was all that?" I wanted to reach out and touch him, but something told me that it wouldn't be well received at that particular moment.

He didn't answer right away. I couldn't read his full expression, as the angle I was sitting at only left me privy to half of his face, and it seemed inappropriate to turn all the way around to look at him in the mirror. But what I could see was pained, like he was dreading the coming conversation.

"You know about the war," he said eventually, keeping his eyes on himself. "That show, or whatever, mentioned it."

"Yeah." I held my breath. We hadn't really talked about the Time War since our first encounter in the alley. It was too close, too fresh for him, and I had no desire to make whatever he had been going through any worse.

"You know what I did, then? On the last day. Why I'm the last."

My heart fluttered anxiously in my chest. God, I hated where this was going. I hated it so much.

"Yeah," I forced myself to say. If this was hard for me, it was a thousand times worse for him. I could at least do him the dignity of playing my part in the conversation. "I know."

The Doctor's eyes cut across to mine, piercing me with his icy blue stare. "And you're okay with that?"

The question took me by surprise. Okay with the destruction of an entire planet? Sure, _I_ knew that he'd gone back to save it, but the Doctor, _this_ Doctor _,_ didn't. And I couldn't tell him, or at least I didn't think I could. There were rules about foreknowledge, but I wasn't one hundred percent sure what they were yet. What would happen if, by telling him, it caused it not to happen? I didn't know how or if it even could unravel events like that, but it was too important to risk it. I had to pretend that Gallifrey had burned, and the Doctor had been the cause. And he would have done it, wouldn't he? He was willing to, as hard as it was. And that was nearly as bad. Or was it?

A flicker of fear crossed the Doctor's eyes, making me realize he was awaiting judgement, and I was taking just a bit too long to answer.

"I- I don't know," I said honestly. The Doctor ducked his head again, glaring into the sink.

"You _don't know_ ," he snarked, though his bitterness wasn't directed at me. "You _know_ I burned an entire planet. Billions of lives, gone in an instant, because of me. I'm a murderer." His voice was losing its bite, settling into deject resignation. "What isn't there to know?"

Sadness seeped through me. I reached out and gently lifted his chin, meeting his gaze more surely than I had before.

"Asking if I'm alright with it isn't the right question," I began, not sure where I was going with the statement. I only knew that I had to say something. "Because I'm not. It was a horrible, terrible thing. The whole war was." My other hand slipped up so I could rest them both on his shoulders. The Doctor let me pull him closer, only watching me nervously as I stroked the sides of his neck with my thumbs.

"But I think I know what it really is you want to ask," I continued, struggling to find the right words. "You want to know if I'm okay with you. Right?" He offered no response, so I pressed on. "I don't know much about the war, but I do know _you_ , Doctor. And you are the most insane, wonderful, _caring_ , person I have ever met." I swallowed. "You had a choice, and you made it. Now, I don't know if it was the best or the right choice, or whatever… or even if there was a choice. But I don't think it matters now."

I poked him the chest. "What matters now is that you're here. And you're my friend. So really, Doctor, what the hell did that alien do to you?"

The Doctor watched me for a second, blinking. There was moisture in his eyes, but I knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't let it fall.

"Alvioris," he said after a moment.

"Huh?"

"That's what his lot are called. They're a bit pretentious, mind you. Bookkeepers, mostly. They keep history."

"That guy didn't look like a librarian. He poisoned you."

The Doctor nodded grimly. "They're a race with a strong sense of justice. If they come across someone that didn't pay for their crimes, they try to make it happen. Killers. Maniacs. The people they judge to need punishment."

"That's not up to them to decide," I protested, disgust bubbling in my stomach.

"It was genocide, Buffy," the Doctor said gruffly. "I-"

"You did it because you thought it was for the best! The Daleks-"

"It doesn't matter, Buff," the Doctor interrupted, voice rising. "Ask Hitler or any of the other people that start genocide! They'll all say it was _for the best,_ too."

"You're not freaking _Hitler_!" I cried, appalled.

"You're not a Dalek… or a Time Lord." The Doctor snarled. "It's not up to you to decide! When I'm a monster to your people, then… _then you can decide!_ "

The statement hung in the air like stale perfume. Silence fell over us. The Doctor paced a few steps away and scrubbed at his face with his hands. His anger resonated in me. His guilt.

"You're not a monster, Doctor," I said quietly. What the Doctor said had my mind spinning, but I would fight tooth and nail over this. "You really, really aren't. I'm not sure you ever could be."

The Doctor didn't answer, just rubbed his eyes and paced back to where I still sat on the counter with his hands shoved in his coat pockets. "The Alvioris came to me because of what I did. They encourage the death of people to bring justice."

Sadness sliced my heart like a knife. I couldn't stand talking- or even hearing- about the Doctor like this. On the show, monsters and villains would call the Doctor all sorts of things. But those were the bad guys.

This was coming from the Doctor.

My throat was so tight that I couldn't swallow. I worked my jaw for a second before I could speak. I forced my way past any more moral protests and focused on facts.

"But he didn't kill you," I struggled to say. "He made you sick."

The Doctor nodded. "They're a peaceful race, in all. They threaten 'n scare. But they won't kill anyone outright. Just make it easier for them to… to..."

"To what?"

"Do it for themselves."

"The blue vial." Bile rose in my throat and tears were welling in my eyes. I forced both back.

"The blue vial," the Doctor confirmed, face blank. "The yellow was just to get my attention. The blue would kill me. No regeneration. They take species into account."

"So when you… when you said… you thought… thought about it." I couldn't make myself say the rest. Couldn't bear to think about it.

The Doctor glanced away quickly, staring determinedly at a scuff mark on the pristine white tile.

"Oh, Doctor." I leapt off the counter to throw my arms around his neck. I placed a quick kiss between his eyebrows, two on each cheek, and three across his wrinkled forehead before burrowing my face into his neck, holding onto him with all my strength.

"Don't you dare," I growled softly. "Don't you ever dare. I won't let you. And if I ever see that Alvio-whatever again, I'll cut its fucking head off."

The Doctor wrapped his arms around my back as he returned the embrace, a perplexed and slightly wet chuckle finding its way out, surprising us both. "He could've crushed you with one 'and. It was like watching a chihuahua yappin' at a rottweiler."

I knew he was trying to use humor to brush off the whole warped situation. I didn't want to drop it, but I also didn't know how to safely proceed without making him more upset, and maybe making everything worse. So I let him diffuse and divert, for better or worse.

"I would've got a few hits in. Chihuahuas scare me a lot more than big dogs."

"Me too."

The Doctor's arms tightened until the hug was almost painful. I felt a kiss placed against the side of my head as he rubbed my back.

"I'm okay, Buff. I really am," he murmured into my hair. "Promise. I'm alright now."

"Would you tell me if you weren't?"

I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, curled into each other's warmth, but it was long enough for someone to get impatient enough to start hammering on the door, demanding that we hurry up.

The Doctor snorted and released me ruefully, his small smile _almost_ reaching his eyes as he pulled away, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

I kept my hands on his neck for a moment longer, taking a second to study his bloodshot, but still gorgeous eyes. He was so tired. His face was pale from being so violently ill and his shoulders were slumped.

"Want to go home?" I asked, ignoring another impatient flurry of knocks from whoever was still waiting outside.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"We could watch a movie." He needed sleep, but I wasn't about to let him be on his own, not after everything. From now on he'd probably be hard-pressed to ever be in a room without me. The movie room was cozy and had a giant, comfy couch we could curl up together on and lots of squishy blankets. "I'll let you pick."

"Sounds good to me," he agreed quietly, some of the tension in his shoulders melting away.

"And if you happen to fall asleep," I vowed, " I promise _not_ to draw inappropriate things on your face."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"It was _one_ time. You really need to let that go."

We left the bathroom hand in hand. We had to go past the bar again to get back to the TARDIS, but the alien from before was nowhere to be seen.

There was something else I didn't see, but would later wish that I had.

The blue vial was still on the bar, right where the alien had left it.

Carefully, so I didn't notice, the Doctor snatched it up and pocketed it in one swift motion. He gave my hand a squeeze and I squeezed back, none the wiser.

Later we would be curled up together, watching a kids movie from a few hundred years in the future. The Doctor would be asleep, his arms wrapped around my legs and head pressed into my stomach, a position he subconsciously rooted into after dozing off sitting up.

I would still be sitting, playing with his hair while I dazedly stared at the movie I had already forgotten the plot of, blissfully unaware that the damned vial was still in his jacket.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	19. The Hemovore - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until I’m caught up with what I have written.

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_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Nineteen: The Hemovore** _

_**Part One** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

  
"Damn it!"

I ducked and tried not to laugh as a bundle of discarded wires went flying past my head. The Doctor was on his knees by the console, head and torso shoved down into the floor grating, causing his butt to stick up comically into the air. There was a great clatter of things being shoved around. I raised my eyebrows.

"Did you get it?" I asked.

"No," he snapped, sounding cross as ever. "It went back under the plating."

I crossed my arms across my chest and leaned casually against the railing. "How did a mouse even get into the TARDIS, anyway?"

"Must've wandered in when we kept going in an' out on Meta-Gra Four. The colonists there kept complaining about the mice eatin' all the grain. Should've taken 'em more seriously."

I shook my head in amusement. We first noticed the tiny intruder about an hour ago when it came scurrying out from around one of the Doctor's many toolboxes and began running along the wall of the console room. The Doctor had been trying to catch it ever since, armed with a piece of cardboard and an empty cup. Since there were so many nooks and crannies in the console room, the small brown creature had been able to make its way under the console.

The Doctor was on a warpath trying to catch it. He tore up grates and ripped out wires and storage boxes, cursing in all sorts of languages as his frustration grew. It didn't help that the TARDIS seemed to be getting even more amusement out of the situation than I was. New little mouse sized hide-y holes kept appearing and disappearing just as soon as the Doctor seemed to have it cornered, all the while the room buzzed with little whirrs and hums that I was beginning to associate with the TARDIS laughing, which only served to make the Doctor more sour and more determined to catch the 'little fiend.'

"Can't you just use your alien psychic powers or whatever to talk to it and ask it to leave?"

"I tried!" He complained, his voice muffled by the floor. "I told it I'd find it a nice field somewhere an' let it go. It didn't believe me!"

"Well, yeah. It's a mouse."

A series of faint, indignant squeaks twittered from somewhere under the console as the mouse put in its two cents.

"It thinks I want to eat it," The Doctor translated.

"Yeah, it's a mouse," I repeated. I gave up standing and went to flop down in the jump-seat. "Can't we just leave it and go somewhere?"

"I can't leave knowing there's a mouse in my TARDIS!" He whined. "Mouse on a spaceship. Ridiculous!"

"How do you think all those other mice got on another planet?"

"In little cages in the livestock room on the colony ship. They brought them on purpose, and what did it get 'em? Chewed up feed bags an' nibbled veggies!"

"Yeah, but this one's not hurting anything," I pointed out. I personally didn't care whether there was a mouse or not. As long as it wasn't in my food or under my feet, it could roam around the TARDIS to its heart's content. God knows we had plenty of room.

"You can say that. You won't be the one having to replace all the wires it chews up."

I sighed. As entertaining as this was, I was getting restless. "Well, obviously what you're doing isn't working. We can set some mousetraps out for it while we're out. You probably have some somewhere."

"I don't wanna kill it!" The Doctor protested, horrified.

I rolled my eyes, but smirked all the same. "I mean, we could always get a cat."

"Absolutely not."

"Fine, fine. What about some no kill mouse traps. People sell those, right?"

The Doctor went quiet for a moment as he pondered the statement, which told me I had a point. Things clattered around as the Doctor clambered out from under the panel, cursing as he banged his head on the underside of the console. He rubbed the spot ruefully before setting the TARDIS into motion, talking as if it hadn't happened.

"Humane mouse traps. Catch and release. I could just build something, but-"

"We'd be here all day."

He shot me a withering look. "But it's not worth the effort. There are plenty of catch and release traps to be had."

"So we're going shopping?"

"Yep, an' I know just the place."

"Thank God." I clung onto the console, bracing myself as the TARDIS began to roll and shake. "Hang on, Geronimo!"

"Geronimo?"

"It's a good name for a mouse."

"Good Rassilon, don't _name_ it!"

"Too late."

_**~0~0~0~** _

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_**~0~0~0~** _

I stepped out into the pale grey light, the Doctor on my heels. We were on a city street. Grey buildings stretched high above our heads, vanishing up into dark grey clouds, heavy with the threat of rain. Crowds of people streamed by, almost as colorless and bland as the city they lived in. A few cars and motorcycles droned by, sleek and shining despite the dull light.

"Where are we?" I inquired as the Doctor closed the door and locked it.

"Portland, Oregon." He paused to sniff the air and wrinkled his nose. "I think."

I surveyed our surroundings with a curious eye.

"I've never been to Portland," I commented, "but I never imagined it to be this… gray."

"Oi, give it a chance," my companion chided.

"No, I mean… I've seen pictures of Portland. It always looked more like Atlanta." I sniffed the air like he had, but got absolutely no information. "Trees and parks. This looks more like... New York, I guess. Concrete jungle."

"Have you ever been to New York?"

"No."

"We'll have to visit there next," he mused. "Cos' this is nothin' like New York. And this _is_ Portland, it's just not the one you remember."

"Oh, future Portland?"

The Doctor nodded. "Future to you. 2057. February, I think. There's an outdoor shopping spot not too far from here. Got started up a few years back. It should have what we're looking for."

The Doctor ambled off down the street, melding effortlessly into the crowd while I struggled after him. I lost him twice and nearly got knocked down once before I caught up and was able to snag onto the back of his leather jacket. He cast me the scarcest glance and plowed on, pulling me along without the slightest hindrance.

Portland had grown a lot in the forty or so years since I'd seen a picture of it. Despite the Doctor's dismissal of me likening it to New York, it was definitely similar in size, if not bigger. Nearly all the buildings were skyscrapers made of grey stone and shining metal. The cars were smoother and more streamlined than I was used to, and there were a lot of them. Upon closer observation, now that walking was easy with the Time Lord breaking through the crowd, I could tell that the fog and mist that hung from the clouds weren't mist at all. It was smog. The air tasted wet and dirty, like chewed up gum and car exhaust.

Future Earth, indeed.

One that I would've lived in. If I lived a natural life, I would only be 57 or 58. But now, who knew?

The Doctor suddenly swerved, nearly jerking my arm out of the socket as I was dragged along with him, only to smack roughly into his back when he came to an abrupt halt.

I grumbled under my breath and rubbed my nose ruefully before poking my head around his shoulder. As promised, we were in some kind of outdoor shopping center, a conglomerate of semi-colorful buildings, potted plants, and outdoor restaurants underneath retractable awnings. I took a deep breath of the variety of food, drink, and perfume to cleanse my senses of the other smells of the city.

The Doctor turned to face me."Right, I'm gonna go to the farmer's supply for rodent control. You go do whatever it is humans do at the shops. I'll meet up with you later. You got your card?"

I nodded. The psychic credit card that I had woken up with nearly two years ago. That, my psychic paper, and my sonic pen were always in my bigger-on-the inside bag, stashed beside my knife. I always jumped on the opportunity to use them. The Doctor had his own sonic and psychic paper and usually used them before I had a chance to try out mine.

"Good. See ya."

And with that, he melted away into the crowd. As much as this Doctor liked people, he hated shopping crowds, especially when he had a friend to keep up with. I preferred to wander and look at everything while he generally had something specific in mind, which usually led to the Doctor leaving me to explore on my own as soon as he got impatient. Not that I particularly minded, though it would be nice to have someone to shop with.

A nervous pang gripped my chest, and I wasn't sure if it was from excitement or dread. Rose. She would be joining us soon. I had absolutely no idea when, but it had to happen eventually. Yeah, it would be nice to have another girl around, especially in situations like this, when things were just a bit too human for the Doctor.

But the thought of sharing the Doctor didn't sit very well with me, either.

I knew I was being selfish and maybe just a tad bit insecure, but I loved the dynamic the Doctor and I had. I _liked_ being the companion. I _liked_ being, arguably, the Doctor's best friend. He was definitely _my_ best friend. In all honesty, he was my _only_ friend.

But then there was Rose.

Rose was supposed to be the best friend. He was supposed to _fall in love_ with Rose.

The thought made my gut twist horribly.

I tried to shake the feeling off, but it lingered as I wandered aimlessly through the shops. There was a part of me, deep down, that hoped we'd never have to live out the episodes. That maybe we'd never go back for her, and the events of the show would never kick off.

But then this universe would surely burn.

A sense of foreboding settled over my heart. The weight of oncoming events, which I had shoved to the back of my mind, resurfaced, making me queasy. And suddenly this was no longer about Rose, it was about all of the other trials and terror that lie ahead.

I paused briefly in front of a wall of televisions, made of thin transparent glass. Most of them were showing a variety of news broadcasts while a couple played a cartoon I didn't recognize. I tried to read one that caught my eye; some report about a recent murder. _Victim stabbed in neck. Suspect white, male._

I shuddered and turned my attention to a display of elegant silver bracelets. One with an adorable cat design caught my eye.

I'd been with the Doctor for nearly eight months, and he hadn't mentioned Rose once. I honestly thought, or at least hoped, that he'd forgotten about the blonde altogether. Though that left me the dilemma of deciding whether or not I should mention it.

Was it my responsibility to make sure things happened the way they should? Or allow them to happen, regardless of how I affected the timeline?

I swallowed nervously. I knew perfectly well how disastrous things could be if they were left unchecked.

I pushed the thought out of my mind, deciding to ponder over it later. 2057 was at my fingertips. One of the many things I learned from the Doctor was that I shouldn't let the future ruin the present.

"How much for the cat bracelet?" I asked the vendor.

_**~0~0~0~** _

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_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

An hour or so later I wandered back to the area I had last seen the Doctor, laden with bags and tired from browsing. The Doctor had explained to me that the psychic credit card worked by drawing pennies from well-endowed bank accounts at nearby banks. It wasn't legal, but as long as I was inconveniencing the rich and not taking from people that needed it, I didn't have a problem with buying things for myself.

I settled down at one of the rough concrete tables to wait. The heavy clouds were starting to clear, allowing some hazy sunlight to filter through the smog, chasing away some of the early springtime chill. Sunlight glittered on my new silver bracelet; a cat elegantly prowling along a sparkling silver chain. It was pretty. People floated in and out of shops. A woman got into a squabble with a vendor selling hats. A child started screaming over a dropped ice cream and his father tried to pacify him.

I slipped into a doze.

The wailing of sirens jolted me out of my drowsy state. Two police cars came roaring down the street and began nosing carefully onto the wide sidewalk that divided the shops of the outdoor market. The path was only wide enough for them to proceed one after the other. The one in front honked its horn impatiently at the crowds as people scrambled to get out of the way. A third police car, followed closely by an ambulance, swerved onto the walkway as well. And then another three police cars.

People crammed into the shop entrances, trying to stay out of the way while maintaining a good place to gawk at the spectacle.

I stood on my tip toes, struggling to see what was going on, but I was short and whatever was happening was a fair way down the street.

Shopping bags forgotten, I lept to my feet and took off at a brisk jog. Because whatever was happening, the Doctor was sure to be at the center of it.

No wonder he had been taking so long.

By the time I reached the center of the disturbance, the area had already been blocked off. I fought hard to struggle through the crowd. It wasn't easy, a handful of police were keeping the crowd back with temporary barriers and bright yellow tape while the crowd strained forward to get a closer look.

I shoved past a middle aged woman and nearly ran smack into one of the police officers.

Stand back, ma'am," the officer said, holding out a hand in warning. He was tall with a buzz cut and a hooked nose. His beady eyes gleamed at me with both interest and disdain, making my skin crawl. There was a speck of red at the corner of his mouth, but my mind was elsewhere.

Because from around the officer's arm I caught a glance of a familiar leather jacket.

The Doctor stood stiffly as officers swarmed around him. He kept calm, allowing one of the officers to cuff his hands behind his back despite the fact that another was keeping a gun trained squarely on his chest.

"That's my friend!" I demanded as I tried to peer around the man to get a better look at the Doctor. The Time Lord was trying to reason with the men holding him, but didn't seem to be having any luck.

"Ma'am, I insist," the officer warned, voice dropping dangerously low. I glanced nervously at his hand as it dropped to the baton strapped to his belt.

"What are the charges?" I demanded, not as easily intimidated as I might've once been. "What's going on?"

"I can't answer any questions. _Ma'am_ ," the officer gritted out. "Please return to your previous activities."

I then remembered my psychic paper and was about to dig it out when I made eye contact with the Doctor. He was being shepherded to an armored police car when his keen eyes picked me out in the crowd. He quickly gave a sharp shake of his head, indicating that I should keep out of it for the time being, because he was getting arrested no matter what.

The officer behind him pressed the Time Lord's head down to shove him unceremoniously into the car. The door slammed shut.

I backed away from the commotion, allowing myself to be swallowed up by the crowd, wondering just what the hell to do next.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	20. The Hemovore - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until it’s caught up with what I have written.

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_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Twenty: The Hemovore** _

_**Part Two** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

My heels clacked loudly on the white tile floor. I focused on the sound, trying to keep myself from panicking. This had seemed like a great, albeit ridiculous plan when I thought it up, but now that I was here and about to go through with it, it seemed like the stupidest thing I could ever do. Other plans started to swirl through my head, but I pushed them away. I'd already made eye contact with the young woman at the front desk. I squared my shoulders. Too late to back out now.

The young woman at the desk was pretty. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat french braid that trailed over one shoulder, save for a few wisps strategically freed in order to frame her face. She flashed a friendly smile, displaying perfectly white teeth as she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

I stopped admiring the shape of her soft grey eyes and flipped open my psychic paper. "Agent Carly Whittford. FBI."

On the way over I'd decided that it would be best to give a different name. I had no clue as to what the Doctor had told the police, so there was a chance that he'd already told them he had a friend called Buffy.

The young woman frowned, studying the blank paper carefully, and I internally cringed.

I felt ridiculous, like a kid in grownup clothes. It didn't help that I already felt like a fish out of water in my black pantsuit with all my hair piled on my head in a tidy bun. This wasn't going to work. I was going to get arrested right alongside the Doctor. Maybe we'd be cellmates, at least then we could plot our next move together. I hated having to do this sort of leg work on my own.

I was already contemplating the best way to get on the right person's nerves enough to deserve to be put in with the man they assumed was a violent killer when the young woman nodded.

"I'll let the Commissioner know," she said tapping away at the electronic panel embedded in desk in front of her.

I tried not to get antsy as the moments ticked by, refusing to let my anxiety show. I distracted myself by taking the time to study my surroundings. The part of the building, the lobby, had once been clean and white. A robot vaguely resembling a roomba with an arm droned lazily around the corners of the room, doing nothing to clean up the splotches and scuffs the floor had collected with time. Behind the front desk was a glass wall. Guards wandered on both sides of the bulletproof glass, dressed in dark blue with sleek guns and shiny batons strapped to their belts.

"He'll only be a few more minutes," the secretary promised.

"No problem," I said, managing to sound much calmer than I felt.

"That's a nice bracelet, by the way," the young woman commented, nodding towards the silver cat in my wrist.

"Thanks," I said, glancing down at the object in question. I had forgot I'd even put it on. I mentally cursed myself. FBI agents would _not_ wear CAT jewelry. "It's new."

She nodded, not giving any mind to the unprofessionalism. "Do you have a cat? I've got two."

"No. I'd like one, but my… landlord... would never sign off on it. What's your name, again?"

"Drakenson." She blinked rapidly upon realizing I'd meant her first name. "Leah! I mean… Leah Drakenson."

"Leah," I repeated, testing the name on my tongue. "That's a nice name."

Her smile broadened and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Whatever she opened her mouth to say was cut off by the arrival of Commissioner Ronald Grady. He was a stout man in his late fifties with a head of thick silver hair and a mustache to match. He reminded me somewhat of my grandfather, a no-nonsense scowl offset by a cheerful twinkle in his beady blue eyes. He extended a worn hand for me to shake.

"Not that I'm not happy you're here," he began as soon as the initial introductions had come and gone, "but what does the FBI want with the Hartford case?"

"We've… seen some similarities between this particular case and some other incidents that we're following," I explained, having rehearsed what I would say several dozen times during the walk across the city. Grady opened his mouth to question further, and I quickly added, "I'm not at liberty to say more."

Grady frowned. My heart sank. I kept my face schooled into an expression of professional neutrality despite the panic that was fluttering in my chest. I prayed to every deity in the universe that he would buy it.

"Can I take a look at your badge, please?" He requested coolly. "Procedure. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," I replied, matching the false pleasantness of his tone. I retrieved the leather bill fold from the lining of my blazer and flipped it open for the Commissioner to inspect.

He squinted at the paper for what felt like eons, noting every letter and number that his mind filled in on the blank sheet. I bit my tongue and forced myself not to hold my breath.

Finally, Grady straightened back up and offered me a more relaxed smile. "Well, we'll use you as long as you've here. It's not often I get to pick a suit's brain, if you'll pardon the expression. My office is this way."

I followed him past the security section and into the depths of the station. The place was big. From what I gathered from the TARDIS, there were six floors. The first floor was on the ground level, but instead of extending up from there like buildings usually did, this one went down. The top three layers were offices, filing, and storage, while the lowest three contained holding cells, interrogation rooms, and evidence storage for ongoing investigations.

The Commissioner's office was one floor down from the main entrance. It was a decent sized room, vaguely reminiscent of a principal's office with a large wooden desk in the center, two stiff backed chairs on one side and a large squishy leather one on the other. Shelves lined the walls, overflowing with a random assortment of files, papers, and random knick-knacks Grady had collected over the course of his career. A few medals and trophies peeked out amongst the clutter, half forgotten.

Commissioner Grady flopped down in his leather chair while I perched on the edge of the one opposite. I delved into my bag and withdrew a leather bound notebook, settling it into my lap with a fair amount of self-importance.

"Now, tell me everything, from the beginning."

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_The first victim was a woman. Lucy Hartford. 34. Lucy was at an outdoor concert. Her wife, Alivia Hartford, 32, and sister Freema Green, 29, reported that they were separated when Lucy went to find a bathroom. Police were called at 7:24 pm, when Frankie Hayward, 23, found Lucy unresponsive in the handicap stall. Lucy was declared dead at the scene by responding officers._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

I stared wearily at Lucy Hartford's pale face. I'd seen a lot of corpses during my time on the TARDIS, but they turned my stomach and made my skin itch each time.

The Coroner in the white coat droned on about lacerations, scuffs, and bruises, prodding at the thin pattern of wounds just beneath the dead woman's jaw through thin latex gloves.

I kept watching her face.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_The second victim was Howard Johnson_ , _63\. Howard was at his grandson's football game. He was found behind the bleachers by one of the assistant coaches, Grayson Hand, 27, during the third quarter. Hundreds of people were in attendance, but no witnesses have come forward. Howard was declared dead at the scene by responding officers._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

I paced around Howard Johnson's body, studying the wounds on his neck with a critical eye.

"Are the lacerations deep enough for the victims to have bled out?" I inquired.

The Coroner and the Commissioner glanced up at me, one from the body of Howard Johnson and the other from a stack of papers that I assumed was the coroner's report.

"Eventually," the Coroner said.

"But they didn't die slowly," I reasoned, "They died _fast._ Within a couple of minutes, right?"

"Less than five, by our estimates."

"But the cause of death _was_ blood loss," Grady argued. "So what could've sped up the bleeding?"

The Coroner pursed his lips. "Some kind of anticoagulant on the weapon, maybe."

"It would take a hell of a lot more than that," I pointed out. "This guy lost roughly 3.3 liters of blood. That's about _sixty percent_ of his blood volume. _Gone_." I snapped my fingers. "Just like that. And that doesn't even _really_ look like a stab wound,"

"We were thinking some kind of razor," Grady offered, "so the attacker would have sliced instead."

"Which would've caused even less blood loss than a puncture wound," the Coroner added.

I frowned. The lacerations were about half an inch long and a quarter of an inch deep. There were 37 cuts, in total, arranged in a slanted circular pattern, like someone had drawn a dandelion with simple, straight lines.

"But what about the pattern?" I pressed. "What does that look like to you?"

The coroner hesitated. "What does it look like to _you_ , Agent Whittford?"

"A bite." The men looked doubtful, and I could understand why. "If someone was sucking out the blood- like, _really_ sucking like a vacuum, could that explain the blood loss?"

"But that definitely isn't a _human_ bite," Grady protested. "And everything else suggests that it was a person."

I shrugged.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_The third victim was a young woman. Hayley Stream, 20. Hayley was shopping at the outdoor shopping center, the same one that the Doctor and I had wandered into in our search for mousetraps. Hayley has been shopping with her two friends, Carla Trent and Sam Cress. Hayley was found at the south end of the market, in a small alley between Madame Sarah's Boutique and Miss Gracely's Jewels. Shoppers reported hearing Hayley scream. Mrs. Betsy Torell, 87, who was coming out of Madame Sarah's Boutique, responded and reported seeing a tall man in dark clothes pinning Hayley to the wall. Mrs. Torell retreated into the boutique and called the police. Three minutes later, an officer stationed on-site arrived at the scene to find a white male, 40, kneeling over Miss Hayley Stream._

_Suspect was arrested and is in police custody. The suspect, only referred to as 'the Doctor', was positively identified by Mrs. Torell. 'The Doctor' maintains innocence. He claims that he responded to Hayley's scream and that he did not see Mrs. Torell or an aggressor._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The cool wall pressed solidly against my back. I rubbed my temples, trying to ward away the headache that was starting to build. I was waiting to talk to the Doctor, which had been my initial goal, but there was always something else that had to happen first. Before I could talk to the Doctor, they had to get him into the conference room. Before they could get him into the interrogation room, they had to do the paperwork documenting that we were going to use the space. Before that, they had to do more paperwork about who we were going to question. Before we questioned anyone, Grady had wanted to talk to the Coroner, but before we could talk to the Coroner, the Coroner had to do paperwork. And before we talked to the Coroner, Commissioner Grady had wanted to go over every single detail and file he had on the case.

I admired the dedication and attention to detail, which was slightly ironic considering that the Commissioner was absolutely, irrevocably positive that the man he had arrested was the killer, but I couldn't help but wonder how the man ever got anything done at all. I had been spoiled by my travels with the Doctor, when we could usually cut straight through all the red tape and jargon and get to the problem at hand.

I closed my eyes. The hallway was bright, full of artificial light that refracted off of the wall made of concrete blocks covered with glossy white place reminded me an awful lot of my old high school; shiny and white to try and cover up the oppressive atmosphere that weighed everything down and the stress that seemed to bleed out from the very walls.

A warm, pleasant scent flooded my senses. Coffee.

I opened my eyes and was rewarded by the sight of Leah holding out a mug of coffee with a shy smile.

"I wasn't sure how you like it," she explained, her voice tittering slightly, "so I put just a little bit of creamer in it. You look like you like it sweetened, I think."

"You thought right," I praised, taking the mug with a grateful smile. I took a sip. It was thin, awful coffee, but I didn't let that particular opinion show."Thanks."

"You're welcome." She preened slightly, taking a swig out of her own cup. "I'm on my break, and- well- you looked like you could use a pick me up." Her cheeks reddened. "Not that you look _bad_ or anything. You just look kinda tired- No! Not bad tired, just-"

I laughed, caught off guard by her awkward, yet endearing rambling. "It's alright, I know what you mean. It's been a long day."

Leah tucked a loose strand of hair that had escaped her braid behind her ear. A dimple showed on her left cheek when she smiled coyly. "Sorry , I guess it's inappropriate to comment on the appearance of a federal agent."

"Oh, I don't mind," I said easily. Disappointment tricked down my spine at the realization that, even if she _was_ being more than casually friendly, nothing would come of it. Such was life on the TARDIS.

Her smile became more confident as she leaned back against the wall beside me. Our elbows brushed when she took another drink from her mug.

"So Leah," It really was a pretty name. It suited her. "You're working as a…?"

"Administrative assistant," she finished. She rolled her eyes. "But it's just a fancy way of saying 'intern with pay.'"

I nodded. We were about the same age, though I'd dressed to make myself look a bit older. She was in her early twenties, old enough to know what she wanted out of life and what she was capable of, but too young to have the experience necessary to get there.

"What do you want to do?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I'm still in school, but I want to be a- you know- detective."

She said it like she was embarrassed to admit it. I wondered if there was a story there. Unsupportive family, maybe? Condescending professor?

"You're definitely getting some experience here, then," I pointed out. "I was always told that working as an assistant was good because you get to see the ins and outs of the job through the paperwork and phone calls and stuff."

"I guess so," she admitted begrudgingly, like she'd heard that a thousand times.

"But?" I prompted.

She sighed. "I _do_ learn things. But what happens if I notice something no one else does? Do you think anyone will listen to me if _I_ have a theory? No. It's all 'go get this file, Miss Drakenson' and 'leave the investigations to the professionals, Miss Drakenson.'"

" _Do_ you have a theory, Leah?" I inquired, watching her curiously.

Leah fumbled and cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Nevermind me. So how did you get all the way to FBI agent? Did they rush your training?"

I narrowed my eyes, trying to decide if I should press her further. Either she knew something but wasn't ready to share it, or she didn't know jack shit and was embarrassed to admit it after going off about not being listened to.

I let her divert. I shrugged, knowing that I had to keep my answer vague but near enough to the truth. "Something like that, I guess. I made some good connections. A lot of on the job training, things like that. My mentor kinda rushed me along."

"You must be really good, then."

"I have my moments." I chewed the inside of my cheek thoughtfully, allowing myself a moment to reflect on my own character development. "My mentor takes a lot of the credit, though."

"Must be a pretty great mentor," Leah said solemnly.

I snorted and bit back a snide comment. "I guess."

"I wish I had a decent mentor." Leah frowned, her nose scrunching adorably despite the intended bitterness. "All I've got is Professor Burns. He smells like cheese and has never solved a case in his life."

"I'll introduce you to mine if I get the chance."

She perked up at that. "Really?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?"

"Does he take new apprentices?"

"Sometimes." I realized that I'd talked my way into a corner. It was turning into a bad habit, making promises I didn't intend to keep.

"So is there some kind of, like, application process of something?"

"Nah. You have to impress him, though."

"Do you think he'd like me?" She seemed genuinely concerned about this, about impressing this apparently god-like mentor that could somehow magically train and rush an apprentice through all the convoluted hurdles required to become an FBI agent.

I smiled fondly at her innocence. "Well, _I_ like you, so that's definitely a start."

Her blush, which had vanished as our conversation wore on, came back in full. She breathed in sharply and wet her lips.

"I think I like you too," she admitted. I was suddenly hyper-aware of how close we were standing. I could literally feel the heat from her body as she shifted almost imperceptibly closer, but that could have also just been me feeling my own blush.

But before I could work out the appropriate response, we were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the adjacent hall. Grady poked his head around the corner. He took in our soft blushes with narrowed eyes, but didn't otherwise comment.

"We've got him ready for you," he said.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

"I'm not sure you'll learn anything from this guy," Grady explained, leading the way into a dark room. A few people loitered about, one messing with a panel controlling what looked like recording equipment while another sat at a long table made of heavy looking wood. "This guy's a bit of a nut."

I snorted, but didn't otherwise agree. _You don't know the half of it,_ I wanted to say.

I looked through the glass and into the room beyond. It was dull and grey, featureless except for a green wooden table that was aided by two uncomfortable metal folding chairs, one of which was occupied by a familiar lump of leather.

The Doctor was seated at one side of the wooden table, hands cuffed to the metal hook driven into the battered green surface. I was relieved to see that he looked none the worse for wear; just bored and annoyed, like this was all just a minor inconvenience.

"I guess we'll see," I mused, making my way to stand by the door separating the two rooms. There was a man, a police officer standing guard beside the thick steel door. I froze when I caught sight of his face. It was the policeman that I'd met at the market, the one that had threatened me when I'd tried to get past him. He was even more unpleasant looking in the dim light. His face was encased in shadow, making his angular features look even sharper and his eyes appear completely black.

"This is officer Beckett," Grady introduced, moving to rest his hand on the meal latch on the door. "Beckett, this is Agent Whittford."

"Ma'am," Beckett acknowledged, his voice low and smooth. Thankfully, there was no recognition in his dark eyes, and I was able to breathe a little easier. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, no," I said, just a bit too quickly. I composed myself with an easy smile. "It's not my first time, officer. I think I can manage on my own."

"If you're sure."

Commissioner Grady opened the door for me. The Doctor looked up at the sound of the door opening. All trepidation from seeing Beckett left me at the sight of my friend. His eyebrows shot up and I smiled back at him smugly. The door clanged shut behind me, and we were alone. Sort of; I knew they were still just beyond the glass, listening.

The Doctor continued staring at me skeptically as I pulled out the other metal chair and settled down, carefully organizing the file I'd been given in front of me and flipping my notepad to a blank page with a certain level of pretentiousness that I knew would drive the Time Lord insane.

"Who're you supposed to be?" He demanded after I readjusted my pen for the third time.

"I'm Agent Whittford, FBI," I said, showing him the psychic paper.

"Carly Whittford?" He scowled at me doubtfully to keep up appearances, but the sparkle in his eyes expressed simple curiosity. "What, did you make that up yourself?"

"No… my parents gave it to me." I kept my tone tight, clipped, like a real agent might if she'd been asked such an odd question. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few baseline questions for the record."

"Fine," he grumbled, tired of answering the same questions. He tugged at his cuffs passively.

"What is your name?"

"The Doctor."

"The Doctor," I echoed, rolling the name around on my tongue. "The _Doctor_."

"Somethin' wrong with that?"

"Well, that's not really a _name_ is it?" I mused. "Sounds like some _obscure television character_ , doesn't it?"

"Yeah," he scoffed, realizing I was teasing him. "Hilarious."

"D and D?"

"No."

"Stripper name?"

" _What?_ "

"Fursona?"

"If you're just gonna sit there and-"

"Then what's your real name?"

"John Smith," he growled, his eyes flashing with warning as he started to genuinely get annoyed. "Just leave it at that."

"Thank you-" I gave him a playful grin and his scowl softened. "-for your cooperation."

"Couldn't you come up with any better questions?" He complained.

"What were you doing at the marketplace?"

"Shopping."

"For?"

"Mouse traps."

"Have you got a rodent problem?"

"Something like that," he snarked. "But my friend's gone and named it, so I don't know if I'll ever be rid of the bloody thing now."

"Sounds annoying."

"Yes. Very." He tugged at his cuffs again. "Can we get a move on?"

"Why, do you have somewhere to be?"

"No. But my friend-" He glared at me pointedly. "-has a habit of gettin' herself into situations she can't get herself out of."

I rolled my eyes. "Where's your friend now?"

"Makin' a nuisance of herself, I'm sure."

"Ah, give her a chance. I'll bet she saves your sorry butt more often than you'll admit." I smirked at him and he wrinkled his nose in response. "Walk me though what happened at the mall."

"I've already gone over that with the other blokes."

"Is there anything new you'd like to tell _me_?" I made the intention behind the statement very clear through the tilt of my head and raised eyebrows: if he knew anything that the police wouldn't believe, now was the time to communicate it.

"I got a chance to look at the wounds," the Doctor began slowly, chewing on his words. "Looked an awful lot like an animal bite."

"Did it, now?" I mentally congratulated myself. "Have you seen it before?"

"Once," he said firmly. "A _very long way_ from here." _It's an alien._

I didn't do anything to acknowledge the gravity of the statement. Commissioner Grady had made his stance on aliens and everything that Doctor had otherwise suggested painfully clear. At the moment, the man thought I was legitimate and any suggestion that I wasn't who he thought I was could hurt my position. Instead I smiled wearily, pityingly, like the Time Lord had just started rambling about fairies and gnomes, all the while communicating my concern through my eyes.

"And this- uh- this _animal,_ how would it pass in a crowd? Hayley Stream was in the middle of a mall, someone would've seen an animal big enough to take down a human."

"It blends in, that's what it was made to do," the Doctor elaborated, voice laden with warning. "They're loners. They find a society full of hot-blooded apes and assimilate. And feed. It's intelligent, so it'll know _exactly where_ and _how_ to hide." He paused, eyeing me worriedly. Warmth flooded through me at his concern. "Look after yourself, Agent Whittford."

"I wouldn't worry about me," I drawled, jotting down a few pretend notes before standing. "You should worry more about yourself. If it turns out that you did do what you're accused of, they'd lock you up for life."

"That'd be awfully ambitious of them," the Doctor said smugly. He tried to lean back in his chair and cross his arms, only to have them jangle awkwardly against the cuffs. He frowned, returning to his irritated demeanor. "Who knows? I might make a run for it."

"Will you?" I frowned, hoping that he wouldn't, at least not yet. Although having the Doctor to investigate would bring the killer to light faster, it would be extremely difficult to balance him and the police. Then I'd have to worry about the Doctor getting arrested again as well as a homicidal alien-vampire running around drinking peoples' blood.

The Doctor looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "Nah, I'm right where I need to be."

I watched him carefully for another moment, waiting to see if he had anything else to add, then inclined my head in farewell. The Doctor smiled encouragingly.

The heavy lock to the steel door clicked imposingly as the people on the other side allowed me through. Commissioner Grady was leaned back against the dark wooden table, studying his nails.

"What did I tell you?" Grady said with the slightest hint of smugness. "The guy's a wackjob."

I sighed, pondering the Doctor's warning about how well the alien could hide and wondering if the Time Lord had already worked it out. He hadn't told me directly, but if he already knew, he might not say so long as he thought it was simple enough for me to do on my own. It was something that had caused more than one argument between us. He would figure something out but pretend that he hadn't until I'd worked it out, then he'd get that smug little smile on his stupid face becuase he was 'teaching' me. It made him feel clever and he _thought_ it made me feel clever too, no matter how much I insisted that I would much rather get whatever conflict we were facing over with so we could move on to something less dangerous.

"You have no idea," I muttered.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	21. The Hemovore - Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until this is caught up with what I have written.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Language, violence, a little bit of romance

* * *

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Twenty One: The Hemovore** _

_**Part Three** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

There were sixty two tiles on the ceiling of the hall running between the break room and Commissioner Grady's office. It took exactly one hundred and three steps to get from one room to the other. I was generally a patient person, especially when compared to the Doctor, but the overall stress of having to sort out this adventure without my Time Lord chaperone was taking a toll.

I was waiting, again, for Grady to sort out this and that. The man had been called away briefly to deal with some other problem that had come up. He was a busy man, and this was a big station. What was _really_ driving me nuts was the fact that he didn't seem to want me to do anything concerning the case without him. Probably because he didn't want someone other than him to solve it, but my position as a fake FBI agent didn't leave me with the confidence to call him out.

So I waited. The next thing Grady had insisted on was showing me the Torell interview. Mrs. Torell was the lady that had witnessed the attack on the most recent victim, the one who identified the Doctor as the attacker.

I'd tried to point out that I had already read her statements in the original report, but Grady insisted. This meant I was waiting for something that was a _complete waste of time_.

Honest to God, with the Doctor it always seemed so _simple_. Go in, ask questions, get answers. Was I doing something wrong? Did I just have a face that made people want to procrastinate as much as possible?

I rubbed my jaw and pinched at my cheeks experimentally, but stopped when I saw Leah marching down the hall, headed in my direction. I smiled and pushed myself off the wall I had been leaned up against, meaning to meet her halfway. She was carrying two large, heavy looking boxes and I reckoned that offering to help was a good enough excuse to talk with her again.

Before I could do anything to draw attention to myself, she whirled around, keeping the boxes impeccably balanced, to round on two male officers that were loitering nearby.

I recognized one of the men. Beckett towered over her, glaring down with his arms folded across his chest. I pretended to take an interest in a random flyer that had been pinned to a cork bulletin board, but continued to observe them out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but their body language was anything but friendly.

Beckett did most of the talking. His fists balled up at his sides and his chest puffed out, trying to be as physically intimidating a possible. Not that it seemed to have any effect on the smaller woman. The other man was shorter than Beckett. He had mousy hair and a prominent mole on his cheek. His hands played nervously at his side, giving the impression that whatever the other two people were saying was making him uncomfortable.

The argument ended with Leah storming off. Despite her anger, I couldn't help but marvel at how adorable her pout was.

"Leah?" I asked as she passed me. "Everything okay?"

The young woman froze and turned to face me, having just noticed I was there.

"Oh! Hey Car… Agent Whitford." She shook her head and tried to smile to hide her evident frustration. "Everything's good. You?"

"What was that about?" I inquired curiously.

"What was what?" She blinked for a moment before realizing what I meant. "Oh, with him? It's nothing, really."

I stared at her, quirking my eyebrows the same way the Doctor did when he didn't believe something I said. She sighed.

"I wanted in on the Mrs. Torell interview, okay? Beckett is usually good at getting me into see some stuff, but he said that the Commissioner didn't approve of him letting me through the red tape and whatever." She crossed her arms moodily. "Happy?"

I smiled sympathetically and reached out to take one of the boxes. "Sorry. I know how important this stuff is to you. C'mon, where is this stuff going?"

Her expression softened. "Records. But you don't have to help. I can manage."

"I know you can. But I'm losing my mind waiting for the Commissioner. I like to be useful."

"He's slower than he used to be."

The room we were headed towards wasn't far. I glanced at the plague beside the door that read _Records D-7_ before piping up again.

"Does Beckett usually involve you in police stuff?" I maneuvered the box into one hand and opened the door for Leah with the other. She nodded her thanks an led the way inside.

"He's not supposed to," she admitted. "But he's a senior officer and the Commissioner lets him get away with a lot. He lets me go on patrol with him sometimes. I don't get to do much of anything, but shadowing is good for experience, right?"

The records room was large and dark, especially since Leah hadn't bothered to turn on the light. Pale light filtered in from the window in the door, catching dust motes that we stirred as we passed. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to read the labels on the rows of tall metal shelves that divided up the room. It reminded me of my library in high school, dark and musty with tall shelves filled with things that no one ever cared to read. But instead of books, the shelves were lined with dozens of large cardboard boxes identical to the ones Leah and I now carried.

Leah found the correct spot for our boxes. She swept away some of the dust with her sleeve before sliding hers and then mine into place. I rubbed my hands together to soothe the ache caused by the box.

"Why Beckett, though?" I asked as she fiddled with the labels, writing something down on a sheet of paper. "If I was going to ask someone to let me shadow, it wouldn't be him."

Leah let out an amused chuckle, not looking up from what she was doing. "Um, would you think less of me if I said blackmail?"

"No."

"Then it's blackmail."

"What do you have to blackmail him with?"

"Knowledge." She finished writing and turned around to lean on the shelf with her arms crossed over her chest. "You saw the other guy that was with him?"

I nodded.

"That's Captain Biddle. Him and Beckett having been having a _thing_."

"Like a _thing_ thing?" Leah nodded and I asked, "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, of course." Leah brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face and attempted to tuck it back into her braid. The stubborn lock immediately slipped back out of place. I gestured to it and at her nod reached out to fix it.

Her hair was impossibly soft. It slipped through my fingers like the finest silk as I adjusted it and tucked it carefully back within the confines of the rest of the braid. I was glad that the room was dark enough to hide my blush. She was so close that the baby hairs around my face trembled with her every breath. Her gorgeous eyes flickered over my face with interest.

I swallowed nervously, my mouth had gone dry. I finished with her hair and retreated a little, my heart fluttering when she moved with me to preserve the closeness.

She smiled like she had no idea of the effect she had on me and continued. "The problem is that Beckett's wife has no idea. And get this: Biddle is in _love_ with Beckett, like _bad_. Like, he's asked him to leave his wife and marry him. Beckett won't of course. He's not in it for the long term. So it would be super bad if his wife found out that he's been cheating on her with a man."

"I can see how he wouldn't want that to be spread around." She had been leaning closer as she spoke. The freckles dusting her cheeks were almost invisible in the low light. Her eyes seemed almost black, save for the bluish tint the whites took on in the darkness. "How did you find out?"

"Walked in on them having a quickie," she said airily. She smiled smugly, wetting her lips and casting a brief glance from one side to the other. "In this room, actually."

"Really?" I laughed, trying to mask my nerves and probably failing. Surely she could hear my heart pounding out of my chest, especially since she was so close I could feel her breasts brushing up against mine.

"Yep." Her tongue slipped out to wet her lips. "It's the perfect place for it, isn't it?"

He was nearly half a head taller than me, so he had to lean down in order to brush her lips against mine. It had been a while since I'd last been kissed and I froze, but after a moment of gentle coaxing on her part I remembered what I was supposed to do. It started out as sweet and tender, but quickly progressed into something much more heated.

My nerve endings were on fire. Every move she made sent a tingle of pleasure from my lips to my toes. Her tongue ran along the seam of my lips before slipping past to tangle with mine, making my knees go weak. When we pulled apart for air she ducked head down to kiss my neck. I shivered at the sensation of her tongue swiping along the side of my neck and gasped as she sucked briefly at the sweet spot below my ear.

By the time we finally broke apart, I was a gasping, shivering puddle. We took a moment to breathe, foreheads pressed together until we both felt that we could stand on our own.

Leah pulled back a bit but kept her arms wrapped around my shoulders. Her lipstick was smudged and her hair was unkempt from where I had been tangling my fingers in it.

"You'd probably better see if the Commissioner's ready, huh?" She suggested, cracking a grin. "I need to check back in with the record's keeper. She'll be expecting me to check in."

"Yeah… uhh… right."

It took me a second to gather my thoughts. But when I did, I nodded and started trying to straighten myself back up and look like I hadn't just been making out with a gorgeous intern. Hopefully the Doctor wouldn't find out. He was smug bastard when it came to this kind of thing. He would tease me for weeks if he knew what I'd been doing while he was _in police custody, of all places._

I could almost hear his long suffering groan and sarcastic complaining when Leah laughed and helped me redo my hair.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

A few minutes later I wandered into Grady's office to find him waiting for me. He glanced up from a stack of papers and frowned at me from over the tops of his reading glasses.

"This is a pressing investigation," he chastised. "It shouldn't have to wait for anything."

I had to bite back a retort on his own time-consuming habits. Instead I shrugged and settled down into one of the chairs.

"So are we ready for the Torell thing?" I asked, ready to get on with it. The longer this took, the more irritating the Doctor was going to be when I finally managed to get him free.

Commissioner Grady studied me skeptically, no doubt taking note of my slightly disheveled appearance. Leah had redone my hair, tying it half up in favor of putting it back in its original bun. I'd also had to correct my lipstick with hers, as mine was still on the TARDIS. It was obviously a lighter shade than the one I had on earlier, but I hadn't had much choice.

If he noticed, he didn't say anything about it. He put away his papers and shuffled around on his desk for a small black box. He walked out into the middle of the room, scooting the unoccupied chair to the side for space. The black box was placed gingerly on the ground and when Grady stepped back a beam of light erupted from the top, spreading and shimmering until a life size hologram of Mrs. Torell filled the empty space next to me.

I stood to get a better look. "Those are awfully thick glasses," I mused, circling the hologram.

The image of the woman was extremely good. It almost gave the illusion that she was sitting in the room with us, save for the fact that she was slightly see through. One thing that was plainly clear was the thick spectacles perched on the crown of her head. She removed them in what was probably an attempt to look younger. Without them, she squinted and peered about, looking very much like an overgrown mole dressed in faded lace and floral print.

"Are we taking her testimony as reliable?"

Commissioner Grady rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "It's all we got. It won't sit well in court, but I'm not going to worry about it too much until we're positive who _to send_ there."

I hummed in acknowledgement, leaning back against the desk to listen as Mrs. Torell recounted her experience. The only new thing I learned was that I didn't really like the old woman. She was whiny and kept crying clearly fake tears throughout the entire session. I pulled a face when she dug a lace handkerchief from her pocketbook and loudly blew her nose.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The interview was extremely long. The person asking the questions, Grady and someone I didn't recognize, kept having to re-ask the same questions over and over in order to get the answers they needed. Mrs. Torell struck me as the type of lady that enjoyed attention, and if she didn't get to the damn point in the next thirty seconds I was going to rip my hair out. Twenty minutes talking about how she was never going to go in that alley again. _Twenty minutes_.

Thankfully, before I could break something or try to strangle the holographic image of the woman, the presentation was interrupted by Beckett, who knocked once before letting himself in. He stood in the doorway, leaning half in and half out of the room.

"Sir. Miss Drakenson wants a word."

"Not now," Grady waved him away, not looking away from the paused image of Mrs. Torell.

I heard an upset voice from somewhere in the hall, my face reddening when I identified it as Leah. We'd parted ways after exiting the records room. I couldn't help but wonder if the Doctor would be willing to let me hang out in the area for a few days after we finished up here.

"She's being stubborn," Beckett continued, face skewed into a frown. "No! Wait -"

Leah ducked under Beckett's arm and into the room. Clearly agitated, she looked paler than before, beads of sweat dappling across her forehead and little baby hairs curling out of place around her face. She stopped halfway across the room and briefly tried to straighten herself up, tugging at her blouse like it no longer fit her properly before giving up.

"Carly," she started, slightly breathless. "I need to talk to you. Alone."

" _Agent Whittford_ ," Commissioner Grady corrected sternly, shifting his glare between her and I. "Honestly, it's none of my business who people choose to fraternize with, but this has gone far enough! It's started to interfere with this investigation and _I will not have it_."

"Agent Whittford, _please_ ," Leah tried again, a note of desperation straining her voice. "It's important."

I stiffened as Grady whipped around to glare at me again. "It's very unbecoming of a federal agent! Flirting… and… and _canoodling_ with someone else while on the case. Unprofessional. You should be ashamed."

Ashamed? No. Worried about being caught as a fraud? Yes. Very. With the Doctor and the faces of the victims of the killer in mind, I went against my instincts, which were screaming at me to listen to Leah. I nodded my head in agreement.

"Yeah. You're right.

"But, Carly!" Leah protested, taking a step in my direction, arm outstretched imploringly.

"Mr. Beckett," Grady instructed, glancing pointedly between the policeman and the secretary.

Leah turned bright red with frustration. She opened her mouth, looking to me for help. I simply shook my head. As much as I agreed with her, with the Doctor still behind bars and my cover to maintain, now was not the time. I felt a pang of regret at her look of betrayal.

Maybe she would forgive me.

Beckett nodded solemnly. He wrapped a meaty hand around Leah's upper arm and began to steer her out the door. The intern turned to glare at me, but otherwise didn't resist. I watched until they turned the corner, then returned my gaze to the files in my hand.

The Commissioner cleared his throat awkwardly and waved his hand at the frozen image of Mrs. Torell, who had her hanky halfway to her face. "Shall we…?"

"No. I've seen enough." Emboldened by my guilt of ignoring Leah, I scooped the box off the ground. After an acceptable amount of fumbling I was able to turn it off and the accursed old hag vanished into thin air. "It isn't any help anyway."

He slumped back into his well-loved chair with a defeated expression."So you don't think Smith is the killer?"

I shook my head dismissively. "No. It doesn't fit.."

"What about Mrs. Torell? She-"

"-needs really thick glasses. You could show her any tall person with dark clothes and she would've said that it was him."

"Fair enough." Grady gave a frustrated sigh and scrubbed at his face irately "So we've got nothing."

"We have a pretty good idea of what he looks like," I pointed out, "Tall, probably male and we know he was at the market."

"A lot of people were _at the market_ ," he snapped. He shook his head again at his own tone. "Sorry. It's just that _every_ attack was in a heavily populated area that was already being patrolled by my officers, so how am I supposed to keep people safe when even a police presence isn't enough?"

Something clicked in my brain. I groaned and smacked my forehead. "Oh, duh!"

"What?" Grady asked with wide eyes.

I sprung to my feet. "Do you know which officers were on duty during each murder?"

Grady puffed up angrily. "You're suggesting that it was one of my men?"

"Do you have the records or not?"

"Well, yeah, of course." He started typing into his computer. Once the files were displayed, I scrolled through each one, seeking out the name I knew deep down would be on each list.

"Beckett?" Grady mused. " _Beckett_. No, it can't- right under- the _entire time_ -"

My heart sank with realization. I grabbed Grady's hand to yank him out of his chair and down the hall, taking the direction Beckett and Leah had gone less than five minutes before.

 _Stupid, so stupid_ , I repeated over and over in my head as we dashed past bemused officers and receptionists. I'd known there was something off about him from the beginning. And I'd let Leah go right into his trap. My eyes scoured each door as I searched for the correct room.

_Records D-7_

I came crashing through the door, stealth forgotten, and froze at the scene before me. It was Beckett and Leah, that was for sure, but Leah… oh, _Leah_. Leah had him pushed up against a wall of file boxes, the same she'd pushed me up against not an hour ago. One of her hands held his shoulder in place while the other had him pinned by the hip. Her face was buried in neck, moving with such an intensity that anyone that happened upon them might have thought they'd caught the pair in the middle of a much more intimate act. But the metallic tang of blood lingered in the air and a dark stain was leeching down the police officer's uniform.

And God, _Leah_. At a glance, she looked human. Nearly. She was taller, _warped_. Her arms and legs were unnaturally long and spindly, like that of a spider. Her spine had elongated so she easily towered over Beckett, who dangled in her grasp feebly, twitching like a dying insect suspended in a web.

"Leah?" I gasped, struggling to find my voice. "Leah. Leah! Stop!"

The creature that had been Leah froze and Beckett crumpled to the ground and lie still.

"Look away," a low, snarling voice ordered, no… pleaded. "Don't look at me like this."

"Leah," I said again, struggling to find the words. "What-"

Whatever I wanted to say was cut off by Commissioner Grady's shout of fear and horror. I whipped around to shout at him, to tell him not to move, but the sound of gunfire shattered the air, drowning out my protests.

One of them hit Leah, and she whirled around with a howl of pain. My blood froze at the sight of her face, the one I knew, but it was strange. Her pale skin stretched around her cheekbones and jaw, twisting and frighteningly translucent. Gleaming yellow eyes glittered in the faint light as her lips parted with a howl of fury, baring a mouth full of long needle-like teeth.

The Commissioner kept firing, completely missing due to how hard his hands were trembling. With another snarl anger, Leah leapt up and in an impressive display of strength and acrobatics, snagged onto the grating of an overhead air duct, removing it with one hand while hauling herself up into it with the other.

Then she was gone.

But Grady kept shooting. Bullets ricocheted off the metal of the air duct, sending sparks showering down on my head.

"That's enough!" I snarled, lunging at him and knocking the weapon to one side. The man's eyes were wide with blind panic. He stared around wildly, not realizing that the threat had passed. "Get a hold of yourself! She's gone."

By that point other people were coming, having heard the commotion. I hurried to Beckett's side, turning him over carefully. The wound on his neck was deeper than the others, probably because the alien's - I tried not to think _Leah's_ \- feed and been interrupted. Blood pulsed from the wound. I pressed my hand over it, trying to staunch the flow, but it oozed out from around my fingers, bubbling deep, dark, and red. I studied the dying man's face. Beckett's eyes glittered at me for a moment and I saw his fear and his pain. My heart clenched as he shivered against me for a few precious seconds, as if he were simply cold.

I held his hand, murmuring words of reassurance, making promises I knew wouldn't make any difference. Maybe he believed me, maybe he didn't, but he tried to squeeze my hand all the same. His last breath rattled in his throat and he went still.

I released his hand and staggered away, my stomach flipping as I struggled not to gag. The medics were here, one of them nudged me away from the body while another two took my place.

"Are you hurt, ma'am?" The one that had pulled me away asked seriously. I shook my head and waved them away before turning to face the far wall, needing a moment to myself.

 _It was Leah,_ I repeated over and over. _It was Leah._ I could still feel the warmth of her lips pressing against mine, her mouth wandering down to tease at the soft flesh of my throat -

I shuddered as the image of the gaping wound on Beckett's neck flashed through my mind. My stomach flipped again. It wasn't my first time being up close and personal with someone as they died. No, that title went to my first adventure with the Doctor, with the anthropologists on the tropical planet. I still had nightmares about rotting heads oozing maggots on spikes and the feeling of holding someone's hand as they dissolved into atoms.

It didn't get easier. A part of me wished that it would, but deep down I knew that it never should.

Commissioner Grady was waiting by the doorway, giving orders to officers about covering exits and checking floors and whatnot. He turned to me as I approached him, trying to wipe some of Beckett's blood off on my pants. I was shaking like a leaf but fought hard to hide it.

Grady gave me a sympathetic glance, but didn't comment. Despite our disagreements, we had come to a sort of understanding; he didn't comment on my loss of composure, and I didn't comment on his when he first saw Leah.

Captain Biddle shoved past us, staggering over to where Beckett lay prone and falling to his knees. Grady and I watched sadly as the grieving man caressed his lover's cheeks, turning the dead man's head this way and that in hopes that he might wake up. But he didn't. Biddle's head sagged.

"Poor bastard," Grady mumbled. "Love's a bitch."

My mind wandered back to Leah. "No kidding."

"We've got the building secured," Grady informed me after another moment of watching the Captain grieve. "It's definitely not going to be able to leave. We've got it trapped. The only question is where."

Biddle stood abruptly and swiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He whipped about and stalked towards us with a dark expression that made me nervous.

"We could send a team in the air ducts after it," he snapped, all business. His face was almost blank, but the tears pooling in his eyes and the way he had his jaw clenched gave away his true feelings.

He wanted revenge.

I waved the idea away, but kept my tone soft. "We'd get trapped up there with her. You can't shoot her in the ducts without risking getting hit by the ricochets."

"The air duct system is massive," the Commissioner agreed, "it could outmaneuver us forever."

"We need to find a way to talk to her," I said, thinking back to how Leah had begged me to listen to her and how strained she looked.

 _She was changing already_ , I realized. _Can she even control it?_

"Talk to it?" Biddle sputtered, beady eyes wide with astonishment. "You did _see what it did_?"

"Yes," I told him gently. "But we can't go after it. More people could get hurt."

"Biddle, why don't you take a break?" Grady suggested, reaching out to rest a consoling hand on the man's shoulder. "Go sit in your office. Or just go home. Eh?"

Biddle shook his head firmly, a tear managing to slip past his defenses and onto his cheek. "I want to get the son of a bitch."

"And we will." Grady subtly waved one of the medics over, a kind looking woman with blonde hair and grey eyes. "But first take a break. We need you at your best. Right?"

The medic understood what was needed of her and took over. With one hand on each of Biddle's arms, she steered him out of the room. He didn't resist, all of the fight leaving his body as Beckett's corpse was covered with a white sheet and gingerly lifted onto a gurney.

"What do we do, then?" The Commissioner inquired when Biddle was out of earshot.

"Up there she has the advantage," I reasoned, pointing up towards the ceiling, "so we need to lure her back down here."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

I shrugged and strode purposefully out into the hallway. "Dunno yet."

Grady dismissed the Captain and hurried to keep up with me. "Where are you going?"

"To free the dude that'll know how to lure her down."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

My footsteps echoed on the concrete floors and walls of stone and metal as I hurried down the hall of cells until I found the one I was looking for. I quickly slid the sliding hatch open to double check it was the right one and got a glimpse of the Doctor laying idly on an uncomfortable looking bed, staring at the ceiling and twiddling his thumbs. The Time Lord glanced over at the sound and jumped to his feet at the sight of me.

"Buffy!" He greeted, sounding pleased before his face turned serious. "What's happened?"

I was still shaking a bit from the aftershocks of what I'd seen, and I knew that the Doctor had noticed. I forced my hands to steady and aimed my sonic at the lock until the door sprang open. "You've been cleared of all charges."

"Are you okay?" He asked calmly. His sharp eyes flitted over my face, missing nothing. When I didn't answer he grabbed my arm and reeled me into his chest. I buried my face into his shirt, the purple one that I liked, and breathed in his familiar scent of spices and leather. I felt the Doctor's chin rest on the top of my head. He nuzzled into my hair affectionately for a moment, but then released me at the sound of footsteps pounding on the hall. A half second later, Grady came panting into view.

"You can't just let him go!" Grady protested, having only just caught up. He was getting on a bit, gathering a little ballast in the middle. His face was slightly flushed from tailing me through the halls.

I smiled easily, feeling much steadier now that the Doctor was here. "Yeah, I can. I just did, see?"

The Doctor smiled and waved at him cheekily. "Hello!"

"He's innocent, remember? It was Leah."

"Leah?" The Doctor echoed. "Who's Leah?"

"But- but-" the Commissioner sputtered. "There's _procedure_!"

"There's a vampire-alien chick that used to be one of your interns somewhere in the air vents," I quipped. "I think we're a little past procedure."

"Hah! So it _was_ someone in the station!" The Doctor crowed. "I was right!"

"You could've just told me," I said accusingly, shepherding the two men away from the cells. We were attracting the attention of the handful of the other people that were being held for one reason or another. I could hear them shifting about behind steel doors, some of the more curious ones calling out to us or each other in hopes of finding out what was happening.

"I knew you'd figure it out soon enough," the Doctor answered cheerfully, pleased to be allowed to wander freely once more. "You were having fun playing detective. I didn't want to spoil it."

" _Playing_ detective?" Grady echoed, aghast. "And wait just a - Do you two _know each other_?"

"No flies on you, Commissioner," The Doctor snarked.

"But how the hell...? _Who_ the hell...?"

"Does it really matter?" The Doctor sighed, rooting through his jacket for his sonic, only to grimace when he remembered that it had been confiscated. I produced it from one of my pockets and passed it to him. "Ta. I'm the Doctor, and this is me best mate, Buffy."

I preened, pleased.

"An' we're quite good at dealing with vampire aliens." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Vampire alien, though. So what's the plan?"

"We need to lure her down out of the air ducts," I explained. "I was hoping you'd have an idea of how to do that."

"And then what?"

"I haven't gotten that far yet," I complained. "We only just figured out who it is."

The Doctor shook his head in mild disapproval. "You're a bit slow today, Buff."

I pouted.

"And it's Hemovore."

"Hemovore?"

"A creature that feeds exclusively on blood. Like leeches an' fleas. It's just a bit more professional than 'vampire', isn't it?"

"So it's not just a Plasmavore?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "How d'you know what a Plasmavore is?"

"Uh," I floundered. "Spoilers?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Yes and no. A Plasmavore's sort of tame. This one is too... feral. You can tell by the way they feed. Plasmavores don't usually bite, and if they do it doesn't leave the same pattern. They evolved on the same planet, though. "

"But they aren't the same species?"

"Well, sort of. The Plasmavore is a subspecies that evolved after-"

"So what do we do with it?" The Commissioner interrupted, impatient though he still didn't seem to be over the fact that I wasn't who I said I was. I smiled at him sheepishly.

The Doctor looked thoughtful. "Capture her, I suppose. Then Buffy and I could take her somewhere off-world. Who knows? Maybe she just wants a lift home."

"I think that might work," I offered. I felt a twinge of guilt. "I don't think she can help it. She tried to tell me just before she changed, but I didn't listen."

The Doctor rubbed my shoulder reassuringly. "It's not your fault, Buff. An' if you're right, we just might be able to sort this without anyone else gettin' hurt. Sound good to you, Commissioner?"

"I- I-" Grady sputtered.

I sighed and shook my head at him dismissively.

"How do we get her out of the ducts?" I asked. "She's not like a wild animal. She's smart."

"It would be hard to trick her," The Doctor agreed. "But we may be able to reason with her."

Grady scoffed. "That's not likely."

"Why not?" The Doctor countered. "She knows she's trapped and that she can't stay up

there forever. The way I see it, she has three options. She can try to negotiate, she can hedge her bets that we'll try to come up there after 'er, or she can try to fight her way out. Which would you choose?"

"What _I_ would do isn't the question," Grady said solemnly. "It's what _she_ will do."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

An hour later saw the Doctor hunched over the heavy wooden table in the interrogation room, except this time he wasn't handcuffed and could go in and out at will. He was fussing over an odd contraption made out of some kind of futuristic coffee machine and a hulking printer he'd managed to unearth from the bowels of the Commissioner's office. I sat opposite of him, stripping wires and twisting them together as per his instructions. The Commissioner flitted in and out, torn between hovering over the people that he now knew were frauds and overseeing the rest of the building. The fact that the aging man was worried was understandable. I was grateful overall that he recognized that the Doctor and I were his best bet at sorting out the issue at hand. It everything significantly easier. As thankful as I was that we weren't having to struggle on two fronts, the constant hovering and questions were giving me a headache, which worsened under the harsh overhead lights.

I finished the wires I was fiddling with and held them up for the Doctor's appraisal. "Like this?"

The Doctor glanced up. I watched anxiously as his eyes flitted along every wire, ensuring that each was connected securely and to the right part before giving me a toothy grin that made me flush with pleasure.

"Perfect," he said, snatching the tangle of parts from my hands and begin to puzzle it into the rest of his creation.

The goal was, as I understood it, to create some kind of generator which would produce a certain kind of sonic wave. These waves, which he referred to as hypermoligenisatic waves, caused molecules with alternating bonds to go into a state of flux. Once turned on, the Hemovore would begin to alternate between her two forms. The Doctor reasoned that, while this wouldn't hurt Leah, it would be extremely uncomfortable and draining, which would force her to seek out the machine in order to destroy it. The plan was to leave it in the interrogation room, its one air duct access point making it easy to defend. The Commissioner had provided an assortment of restraining technology designed to trap violent criminals from a distance in beams of light. Despite Grady's initial violence towards Leah, he was a man of justice and was in agreement with the Doctor's insistence that the Hemovore should be unharmed.

"But what do we do once we have it restrained?" The Commissioner had inquired, scratching nervously at his mustache and making it bristle out like the tail of a frightened cat.

The Doctor shrugged. "Talk to her. Try to convince her to leave the planet, I suppose."

"And if she refuses?"

"We try to get her to my ship anyway. I can take her to a place where she can survive without hurting anyone."

Commissioner Grady's eyes darted nervously between the Doctor and I. "I don't doubt the existence of aliens. It's a well known fact that intelligent life exists on other planets. But you two don't _look_ like aliens."

The Doctor gave an amused smile. "It's a pretty standard shape, believe it or not." He jerked his head in my direction. "And Buffy's human."

"I see," Grady said despite the fact that he looked like he very much did not. This only made the Doctor's smile widen before he turned back to his work.

I finished piecing together the basic odds and ends that the Doctor trusted me with and stood up to stretch. Several vertebrae cracked up my spine, causing me to wince. The Doctor held up his contraption and eyed it critically.

"Are you done?"

"Nearly." The Doctor went back to sonicing the generator, a frown sullying his angular features.

"If you don't need me for anything else, I was gonna grab a coffee from the break-room." I cast my thumb over my shoulder.

"Mmhmm," the Doctor hummed, not fully paying attention.

"Want anything?"

The Doctor gave a noncommittal grunt, which I took to mean 'yes, if there's anything good.' I patted him on the head as I passed, breaking his concentration and prompting him to grumble his annoyance. I smiled cheerfully back at his leather-clad form before ducking back through the heavy steel door.

The station felt eerily empty as I wandered through the halls. All non-essential personnel had been evacuated, so the only people in the building where armed officers and a small handful of prisoners that couldn't be safely transferred.

I nodded politely to a small cluster of officers patrolling the floor as they pushed past me. Biddle was among them, ignoring me in favor glaring at an air vent. The rest bobbed their heads in acknowledgement and continued on their way.

The break room wasn't far from the interrogation room, just around the corner and a few doors down. Unsurprisingly, it was devoid of life. It looked like any other break-room I had ever been in, somewhat sad and subdued despite the odd half-hearted attempt to make it more homely via a wilted plant and a lonely red cushion on the abused and dingy couch that looked like it had been there since the nineties. T was also carpeted, unlike most of the rooms in the station. Not that it was an improvement. It was ugly and stained, the washed orange color making the room feel simultaneously cramped and empty.

I flinched as one of the fluorescent lights overhead flickered and buzzed, suddenly realizing that wandering around on my own probably wasn't the best idea. I instinctively reached up to grasp the medallion that hung around my neck, then chided myself for being so childish. I had gotten better at entering and exiting the Otherside to the point that I could do it instinctively. The Doctor often teased that it was turning into a defense mechanism. Not that that was a bad thing, but it was a bit embarrassing when I panicked and jumped out of reality when it wasn't necessary, especially once the Doctor began intentionally trying to scare me just to see if he could make me disappear.

My ears burned with annoyance as I fished out one of the generic mugs lodged in the back of the cabinet, remembering the time that the Doctor bought a mask at a festival on the planet Zer. The thing was horrible. It had gaping, bloody eyes, long curving fangs, and a straw mane crudely crafted into the shape of fingers. The handsome young man that I had met and was exploring the festival with got a good laugh out of my friend's harmless prank, which ended abruptly when he realized that his date had vanished into thin air. The Doctor apologized, but his stupid grin blatantly said that he wasn't the least bit sorry.

I was so preoccupied by the memory and the process of working the 2042 model coffee machine that I didn't notice the dark shape creeping silently out of the air vent until the door to the hall slammed shut. My throat tightened, fear turning my mouth dry as the lock on the door clicked, signaling that the only obvious way in or out would be difficult to pass through. I grit my teeth, refusing to outwardly panic despite the way my heart fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird.

 _I'm not trapped_ , I reminded myself sternly. _I can get out. I can be safe. I'm going to be fine_.

One of the chairs at the rickety metal table scraped along the dingy carpet, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. The metal chair creaked under the weight of its occupant.

"Want a cup?" I offered, still trying to pluck up the courage to turn around. "We didn't get to finish our last one."

Leah didn't respond, so I went about pouring a second one. I could hear her tap, tap, tapping at the table top with one of her long, spindly fingers; whether out of annoyance or nerves, I couldn't tell. But she hadn't immediately attacked me, which told me that she wasn't here to fight. She'd singled me out, waited until I was alone. She just wanted to talk. With this in mind, I finally turned around.

The sight was more or less what I had expected. Leah, the true Leah in all her frightening Hemovore glory, sat at the table, looking very out of place. Her unnaturally long legs and arms bent awkwardly to fit into a seat that was obviously not meant for her, like an adult trying to sit at the kids' table. Despite this, she'd been considerate enough to sit at the side opposite of me, keeping the table between us in hopes that it would make me feel safer.

Leah's sunken yellow eyes peered at me curiously from her sallow face as I placed the second coffee mug in front of her before settling in the seat across from her. She watched as I meticulously added sugar and stirred exactly four times before speaking up.

"You're handling this remarkably well," she commented when I finally took a swallow, her voice a low rumbling noise reminiscent of distant thunder.

I shrugged. "Not my first date with an alien."

I took the opportunity to study her carefully for the first time. Despite the changes, I could still pick out the features of her human form; the slant of her nose and the curve of her jaw. She was still quite beautiful, but in an unearthly and terrifying way. She was spindly and angular like something out of a Tim Burton movie, but there was an elegance to the way she moved and an intelligent gleam in her owl eyes that made me less afraid.

She stirred her coffee with one of her twig fingers. "I heard your friend talking. You're not from this planet, like me."

"The Doctor's isn't human, but I am."

"Are you stranded here?"

"No, just passing through. You?"

She nodded, slightly wistful.

"Did you crash?"

"Yes. I was one of three, but now…" She shook her head sadly at the memory. "Can you take me home?"

"We _could_ ," I acknowledged with a frown, giving my coffee another stir. "But how do we know you're not gonna turn on us the second we're outside this building? You've killed people, Leah. How do I know you won't do it again? On this planet or wherever we take you?"

Leah flinched and I felt a little guilty, but held my ground. I wouldn't admit to it, but there was a small part of me that felt betrayed. I didn't like being manipulated, especially when it ended in someone's death. It would be a long time before I could sleep without seeing the light fade from Beckett's eyes, so if I was going to let his killer go free, I had to be certain.

"I didn't have a choice," Leah said mournfully, though I couldn't tell if she was being sincere or not. "My species _needs_ to drink blood to hold our form. Without it…" She gestured to herself.

"So why are you like this now? You drank from Beckett."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, mumbling, "I didn't want to lie again. I meant to tell you before, when I first realized you weren't who you said you were, but I left it too late. Beckett wasn't likable, so I hoped you would forgive his death."

"It doesn't work that way."

Her shoulders sagged a bit. "Would you being more forgiving if I changed back? You liked my other form."

"I'd like you in any form, Leah." Sadness flickered in my chest. "You're smart and sweet." I smirked. "And a damn good kisser."

Leah smiled for the first time in her true form, exposing rows of needle-like teeth. "I like you too. Does that mean you will take me back to my world?"

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it out of the bun so I could scratch my scalp. "I'm not sure what else _we can_ do. The Commissioner doesn't have a clue, I think he just wants you gone."

"What about your friend? Will he agree?"

I nodded. "That's what he's hoping for. It makes everything easier."

Leah smiled again, and this time I wasn't frightened by the sheer number of sharp fangs crammed into her mouth. I grinned back, but before I could say anything further, the locked door banged open, hitting the wall hard enough to leave a dent. Three shouting police officers, led by Captain Biddle, pointed their guns at Leah, the muzzles gleaming in the fluorescent light.

I shouted for them to stop, to put down their guns and _listen_ , but they didn't. Leah's massive form leapt over the table to land at my side. Before I realized what was happening, she was behind me, spindly fingers wrapped around my throat, holding me in place as her human shield.

Leah's low growl whispered into my ear, "I'm sorry."

My first instinct was to use the medallion to slip out of her grip, but I held my ground. If I moved, they would shoot. I wasn't entirely sure if I was an actual hostage or pretending to be one. Either way, I would play the part.

"Captain Biddle," I said sternly, barely masking the tremor in my voice. "Put it down. I don't think she wants to hurt anyone. Get the Doctor and the Commissioner. We… we can talk this out."

Biddle's eyes were wild, full of pain and rage. It was plain that he wasn't listening. He glanced from me to Leah, calculating. My heart sank at the realization that he wasn't trying to work out how to get me away from Leah, but weighing how willing he was to shoot me in order to kill the monster that had killed the person he loved.

Captain Biddle's gun wavered. For a moment I thought he was going to lower it, but the officer stiffened at the sound of a voice from somewhere in the hall, which I identified as the Doctor's, ordering him to stand down.

Biddle's gun steadied and his finger tensed on the trigger.

I had a split second to make a decision; stay where I was and offer Leah a moment's protection, or leave the dimension and avoid getting shot.

I didn't get the chance to deliberate. Leah realized what was about to happen in the same moment I did. I was thrown bodily across the room an instant before the sound of the weapon firing filled the air. I slammed headfirst into the cabinets and instantly crumpled to the floor, stunned.

Pain blossomed from the place my head had hit. I wanted to rub it, but was too dazed to do anything more than just lay there. My vision swam, making my stomach flip. I had to focus hard on not vomiting.

My view of what was happening was blocked by worn carpet and the old table that Leah had toppled over, but I could still hear. The sound of multiple guns firing over and over mixed with Leah's screams and roars, overlapping into a horrible cacophony that had my ears ringing. Though it must've only lasted a few seconds, I thought it would go on forever. But mercifully, the outraged screams died out and the gunfire tapered out on shooter at a time.

It wasn't silent, though. People were shouting, some angry and others upset. I was trying to work out what they were saying and blink away the blurriness in my vision when a pair of hands landed on my shoulders, rolling me over into my back and lifting my head to peer into my eyes.

It was the Doctor, obviously. He helped me sit up and quickly checked my body for any injuries, finding none except the rapidly forming knot on my hairline.

"Leah?" was all I was able to ask.

The Doctor's beautiful blue eyes were dark with sadness as he met my gaze and gave his head a single, sharp shake.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The walk back to the TARDIS was slow and relaxed. No stars were visible despite the darkness, but the lights of the city were pretty and shining in their own right. It had rained at some point during the time we'd been inside the police station. Puddles were bleeding lazily across the sidewalks and gathering on the asphalt roads. I skirted a few of the deeper ones to protect my nice shoes while the Doctor sloshed through them without a second thought, much more interested in pointing out some of the sights as we ambled past and giving a brief rundown on some of the local history.

I looped my arm through his as we walked, not listening to his rambling as much as I usually might, my thoughts lingering instead on Leah and Beckett. I tired to listen to the sound of the Doctor's voice, finding some sort of comfort in the familiarity of it. As long as the Doctor was talking, everything was okay, no matter if it really was or not.

The deaths of Leah and Beckett had hit me hard. I'd seen death during my travel with the Doctor. More than I cared to count. Maybe it was because I knew I could've done something to stop it. If I had listened to Leah, she might not have killed Beckett, and then Biddle wouldn't have been so driven to kill her. I voiced this concern to the Doctor, and he responded by launching into an explanation about how it didn't work that way; there was no way to know if doing something different would have saved lives or caused more death; and most importantly, thinking in terms of what ifs made it harder to move on.

It hadn't made me feel much better. The Doctor knew perfectly well that sometimes nothing could soften the blow. So he did what he did best, distract me and pretend that nothing had happened. I knew he wasn't unaffected. The Doctor wasn't the sort of man to be unaffected by anything. But if nothing else, he could help me steer my thoughts away from those that bothered me.

And it worked, more or less. By the time the walk was almost over he'd managed to coax a couple of smiles and even a quiet laugh out of me. He was full of stunts and little dorky antics that made it hard not to be amused.

"I've got a question," The Doctor piped up as soon as the TARDIS was in sight. "Who's Carly Whittford?"

"I didn't know if you mentioned me to the cops before I got there."

"No, I got that part. But where'd you get it from?"

"Nowhere," I lied, ignoring a twinge of sadness. "It's just a name."

The Doctor studied me for a moment with a thoughtful expression but then nodded his acceptance before pushing his way into the console room. I knew he didn't believe me, but I couldn't find it within myself to care. I'd had enough emotional turmoil for one day. The Doctor understood, of course, him being who he was. Not that he would never bring it up again, because he was far too curious by nature for that, but he knew when to leave well enough alone.

"That does us for Portland, Buffy Reid," he concluded flippantly, yanking on the dematerialization lever. "Could've been better, could've been worse. But I mentioned New York, didn't I? How does a picnic in Central Park sound? I could do with a-"

He turned to me with a cheeky smile that faded slowly as his eyes drifted past my shoulder, following the route of Geronimo the mouse as he scampered away from the console and disappeared down one of the corridors.

"I forgot the bloody mouse traps."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	22. Dirt Dauber

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until this is caught up with what I have written.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Twenty Two: Dirt Dauber** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Gravel crunched faintly as I walked along the path. A cool spring breeze, blown in from across the seemingly endless fields on either side of the road caressed my cheeks and tossed loose strands of my hair about as it passed, carrying the scent of wheat and the heavy promise of rain. The song of crickets and birds twittering amongst the grass reached me, adding to the drowsy peace brought by the rolling hills and fading blue sky tinged with evening gold. It was so earthly, that if I closed my eyes and breathed deep, I could imagine that I was back home, sitting on the front porch, waiting for the lightning bugs to come out.

But I wasn't home. I was on Rasp, an alien world known for its notoriously peaceful trading post, uncreatively dubbed 'Centre'. The trading post was at the center of a massive no-fly zone called the Rasp Quarter, enforced by a forcefield dome that towered a mile high and twenty miles in diameter. The rules of the Quarter were fairly simple, if not inconvenient; no one was allowed to live within the dome, technology capable of transportation or discharge was strictly prohibited, there is to be no trading outside of the Centre, no theft, no bartering, and that was about it. Violations are punishable by death. Bit extreme, if you ask me, but effective.

A tiny spec of blue, situated at the very edge of the forcefield, stood out against the greyish smear of the main city, which surrounded the Quarter like the ocean did an island. I found myself walking faster despite my aching muscles and the twinges of pain echoing up from the heel of my left foot at every step.

The Doctor and I had landed on Rasp nearly two weeks earlier. While exploring an abandoned junkyard on a large moon in the Qud system, the Time Lord had found a strange bit of machinery. It was extremely damaged and missing pieces, but the Doctor had been entranced at finding something he wasn't immediately familiar with. He took it upon himself to repair the device, and therefore discover its original function.

Unfortunately, it was missing a vital piece, which apparently could only be found on Rasp. The TARDIS couldn't land within the forcefield, so he'd sent me, alone, across the Quarter to buy an Inter-electrical Frequency Harmonizer.

A few days alone on an alien planet wasn't nearly as daunting as it once would have been. While I walked, I occupied myself by trying to calculate how long I'd been traveling on the TARDIS. It was difficult to tell, but I estimated that it had been somewhere around eleven months since I'd met the Time Lord in a London alleyway during the Auton invasion.

The forcefield wavered as I passed through it. It felt cool on my skin, like I'd passed through a waterless shower, offering slight resistance as it checked me over for weapons or any other illegal substances.

The TARDIS, that wonderful blue box, loomed only a few meters beyond, leaving just enough space between it and the forcefield so as to not trigger any illegal transportation alarms. I rubbed the smooth wood of the door fondly, savoring the vibrations I felt through it as the rest of the ship hummed a greeting from within.

I slipped my key, which I was very proud of having, into the lock and let myself in. The familiar sight of the console room greeted me like an old friend. I sighed deeply and ambled inside, feeling some of the tension I'd been holding throughout the trip melt away.

"I'm back!" I announced to the Time Lord, who was exactly as I'd left him. Exactly, except with a lot more clutter clogging up the console room.

"Here comes trouble," the Doctor greeted good-naturedly. He was seated cross-legged on the floor beside the console, surrounded by a mass of wires, tools, and hunks of metal on all sides, giving the illusion of a funny-looking bird sitting at the center of a junkyard nest. Apparently he'd done as much as he could with the original project and moved on to several others. "Any problems?"

"Nah." I collapsed in the jumpseat, groaning tiredly as the pressure was taken off my aching feet. I frowned thoughtfully at the alien. "Have you moved at all?"

"What would I do that for?" he grunted, going back to his task.

"You're literally sitting in the exact same spot you were when I left."

"I've been busy."

"Seriously? Not even a little?"

"Like I said, busy."

"Not even to eat?"

He shot me an unimpressed look and jerked his head to indicate a variety of metallic food wrappers shoved into a pile a few feet from where he sat. "I've eaten."

"What about sleep?"

"Time Lord."

"Yeah, but you still have to."

"Well, _obviously_ ," he scoffed. "I'm not an android."

I frowned doubtfully, feeling a flicker of concern. "You're saying that you haven't slept since I left?"

The Doctor scowled. "Well, we can't all whittle away our lives in a shallow coma. Besides," he turned back to twisting wires together, "the Time Lord average between snoozes is a week. Three days is nothing."

"Three days? I've been gone almost two weeks!"

The Time Lord's head snapped up, blinking in surprise. "Two weeks?" He echoed. "Time flies, doesn't it?" His eyes narrowed skeptically. "What the hell were you doing for two whole weeks? It was only a three day journey... round trip!"

I sighed and sank lower into the worn leather, stretching my sore muscles. "On the way there I helped this woman and her kid take their stuff back home. Then they invited me to stop back by on my way back, and, well… I couldn't exactly say no."

"Sure, you could've," The Doctor scoffed, having buried himself back into whatever it was he was doing.

I shook my head stubbornly. "That's because you haven't tasted their Honeybloc Muffins. Oh, that reminds me…" I dug into my bag and produced a large muffin, wrapped neatly in some kind of alien aluminum foil that kept things fresh for months. "I brought you one back."

I tossed it at him and he caught it deftly with one hand. He set it to the side with the barest glance. "Thanks."

Attempting to ignore how tired I was, I rested my chin on my hands and frowned at my traveling companion. "Did you really not realize that I was a week and a half late?" I accused. "Thank God nothing bad happened. Who knows how long it would take for you to come looking for me."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Oh, quit your moaning. Nothing ever happens in the Rasp Quarter. Did you at least get what I sent you for?"

Muttering about how ironic it was that a Time Lord had so little concept of time, I dug out the object in question. It vaguely held the size and shape of a glass eye, but looked more like a large marble, inky black in color with tiny explosions of gold and ice blue tracing along its surface.

"This, right?" I held it up for him to see.

The Time Lord sprang to his feet and plucked it from my grasp. He studied it skeptically for a moment, then grinned. "Yeah. Perfect. Even if it did take bloody eons to get here."

"It's not like you'd know the difference."

The Doctor ignored me in favor of testing out his new toy. He bounded back over to the nest of wires and metal he'd created for himself and fumbled around rather clumsily for the device that he'd been working on when I first left. It was complete now, Y shaped and looking somewhat like the futuristic version of a divining rod.

He eagerly popped the glass ball into the fork of the device. The whole thing whirred to life, each tip of the rod glowing blue and the ball at the center illuminating dark purple, flecked with gold and blue.

"What is it for, again?" I inquired, watching bemusedly while the Doctor held the now operational machine this way and that, trying to figure out how it might work.

"Dunno," he responded cheerfully.

"Then how do you know it's finished?"

"Nine hundred years of technological experience," he retorted. "I think I can piece together a bit of 30th century junk. Plus, I'm clever."

I gave an exasperated groan and struggled to my feet. "Whatever. My job is done. I'm gonna go shower."

The Doctor wrinkled his nose impishly. "Good. I wasn't gonna say anything, but you smell terrible."

I smacked him playfully on the shoulder as I passed. "You need me for anything else?"

"Yeah. I need you to stop stinking up the TARDIS," he teased offhandedly. I snorted and started down the corridor, only to stop when he called me back. "Wait! Don't you want to see what it does?"

"I want my bed," I snipped, but came back anyway. I crossed my arms and looked up at him expectantly. "How do you know it's not a weapon?"

The Doctor smiled. "Wrong power cells. Ready?"

I nodded and the Doctor flipped a switch on the device's side. It came to life with a metallic whir. The lights lining the sides blinked frantically for half a second before settling into a regular pattern. The glass ball lit up, each colorful vein shining like a distant galaxy as it began to spin.

We both watched with bated breath. A moment passed. Two. Five. Nothing happened.

The Doctor frowned, twisting it around in his hands and shaking it beside his ear like he might be able to hear the problem.

"Is it broken?" I asked, staring at it skeptically.

"Don't think so." He scanned it with the sonic. "Seems to be working just fine."

"Maybe that's what it's supposed to do. It could be, like, decoration or something."

The Doctor scowled. "Well, that's a load of rubbish. I know everything's - " He broke off as the device sparked and let out a high-pitched whine. "Hold on - "

The room lurched to the side, sending me sprawling. I snagged onto the railing and fought to get back to my feet, grimacing against the sound of the cloister bell as it tolled out a warning. The Doctor darted from one control to the other, fighting his ship with one hand and keeping a tight grip on the unanimous machine with the other as it continued to spark.

"We've taken off!" The Doctor shouted over the din. "There's a competing matrix tapping into the TARDIS's navigational circuits!" The TARDIS roared mechanically and the strange device sparked angrily in response. "She doesn't like it!"

"Is that thing doing it?" I cried back, wedging myself between the railing and the jumpseat to stay upright as the time-ship continued to buck and tumble.

"Seems like it!"

"Then turn it off!"

"Can't!" The Doctor stumbled over and shoved the rod into my hands. "Hang onto this!"

"I don't want it!" I held it at arm's length. The thing sparked and the glass ball rolled angrily in its socket like the eye of a wild animal. "Doctor!"

The Doctor ignored me and went back to trying to bring the ship back under control, frantically pulling levers and pressing buttons with both hands. It seemed to go on for eons, but suddenly ended with a final _thud_. I lost my footing again at the jolt, falling on my back and managing to keep the alien device, and my head, from smashing on the floor.

The TARDIS settled with a few discontented grumbles before going into a quiet sulk. The device sparked a few more times above my head. Thankfully, the white hot sparks fizzled into nothing before they could scorch my face.

I sighed and sat up, shooting the Doctor a reproachful glare. He grinned cheekily at me from across the console before bounding over and plucking the rod out of my hands. It had calmed down as well, settling back into its original blinking pattern.

I heaved myself back to my feet, grumbling and rubbing at my backside ruefully. "Where are we? We landed somewhere new, right?"

"Yep!" The Doctor quipped cheerfully, turning the alien device over in his hands, grinning like a lunatic. "This little thing actually managed to commandeer the TARDIS's controls, pick out a location, and steer us there. Blimey! Can you imagine the ingenuity it would take to hack a TARDIS?"

"No," I chastised. "But I don't think that's a good thing!"

"Probably not," the Time Lord admitted.

"Is someone trying to break in?"

"Nah. Just a fluke." He held up the device and waved it around. "This is a sensor. It's programmed to detect something, and if whatever it's meant to find is too far away, on another planet, for example, it can latch onto the nearest intelligent matrix, plug in the coordinates, and steer it there. "

"What is it looking for?"

"Haven't the foggiest," the Doctor said, much more excited than the situation called for.

I sighed and crossed my arms. "Where are we?"

"Dunno. Let's find out, shall we?" He reached out a hand for me to take.

"I want a shower," I protested half-heartedly.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "You can shower after." He wiggled his fingers invitingly. "Come on, it won't be as much fun on me own."

With another sigh, I took his hand. He beamed and laced our fingers together before dragging me to the doors.

I was blasted in the face by a gust of cool, wet air and tasted rain on my tongue. The place we had landed was empty. There were no trees, no buildings, no landmarks of any kind. We were surrounded, as far as the eye could see, by rolling plains of mud. Rain clouds boiled threateningly overhead, heavy with the promise of more rain. The ground was covered with thick, dark clay, churned up by a recent storm. Deep puddles of water collected here and there, spreading like small ponds that mirrored the rolling grey sky above.

The Doctor hopped out without hesitation, landing with a gross squelch and sinking in up to his ankles. He tried tugging me along with him, but I hesitated, wrinkling my nose. The Doctor released my hand and wandered out a few steps further, holding the metal divining rod out in front of him.

I looked down at my shoes and sighed. They were already dirty and worn from my trip across Rasp. Trusty tennis shoes with excellent arch support, great for walking. Not for slogging through mud. I briefly considered taking them off and going barefoot, but then I thought about how cold the mud must be and wondered if the soft ground was actually full of sharp rocks or alien diseases or whatever. I grimaced.

"Hold on. I'm going to change my shoes."

I missed the Doctor's response as I hared off towards the wardrobe. Kicking off my sneakers at the door, I stripped off my socks and walked barefoot through the rows of randomized clothing.

Finding anything specific in the wardrobe was a huge pain. Sure, dressing for a specific year wasn't too bad, as the TARDIS computer could work out a complete outfit without trouble. But single items seemed to prove too difficult. I would ask for a scarf, and receive a hat. A request for a pair of gloves would be met with a single, lonesome shoe. I didn't even want to think about what happened the last time I asked the computer for a pair of socks. Sometimes the TARDIS would try to help, but she seemed to get confused whenever the wardrobe was involved. It was like she knew you were looking for something, but had to guess what it was and just threw random stuff at you in hopes that something would be the thing you wanted.

The best thing to do was find whatever it was on your own.

Less than five minutes later, I tripped back out of the TARDIS in a pair of brown knee-high rain boots. This time I didn't hesitate to plunge straight into the mud. The sopping earth sucked greedily up to my calves, making each step a battle. I was out of breath by the time I reached the Doctor, who had wandered a short distance in my absence.

"Doesn't make sense," he complained when I made it to his side. He was still frowning at the rod as it continued to blink.

"What doesn't?"

"It's a sensor, right? Tracking something." He walked a few steps forward, the blinking slowed. He spun back to face me, the rod started blinking faster. He took a few steps closer, and the blinking slowed again. "But what? There's nothin' here. Everytime it picks up a signal, the direction changes." He frowned at the rod moodily and gave it a frustrated shake. "Faulty."

I thought for a moment, and then shook my head. "Maybe not."

"Eh?"

"Could be underground." I jumped up and down on the spot, sinking deeper into the mud when I landed. " _Could be_ moving."

"Subsurface tunnels?" A brilliant smile split his features. He retrieved his sonic from the lining of his leather jacket and began to scan the mud. "Buffy, that's - "

Before he could finish the sentence, a brown ball of fur the size of a watermelon erupted from the mud. I caught a glimpse of orange, insect-like eyes and long, beaver teeth as the creature launched itself at the Doctor's hand. In the blink of an eye, it snagged the screwdriver between its teeth, fell back to the ground, and vanished back into the mud, which parted for the alien like water. As suddenly as it appeared, it was gone. The mud surged back into place, covering the creature's escape route like it never existed.

The Doctor swore loudly and hopped about, shaking the hand that the screwdriver had been in.

"Did it bite you?" I asked worriedly, struggling over to examine his hand. I took his hand and brushed off some of the mud off of his fingers, checking for damage. His thumb and index finger both had red welts where teeth had scraped harshly against them, but thankfully hadn't broken the skin.

"It's fine," he grumbled, glaring at the mud surrounding us like he expected another of the creatures to come out of nowhere to bite him again. "It took my screwdriver!"

I massaged the angry marks on his fingers soothingly. "What was it?"

"Dunno," he grouched, kicking at the ground and sending up a spray of mud. "Must've homed in on the vibrations from the sonic. Maybe that's how it finds food. Did you get a good look at it?"

I released his fingers and nodded. "Sort of like a beaver, but it had eyes like some kind of bug."

"Where they orange?" He nodded sagely. "Dirt dauber."

The name tickled at a memory. "I thought a dirt dauber was a wasp. You know, the ones that make the mud nests on the side of your house?"

"Right. Because the humans named something, the name can't be used for anything else," he snarked. "It's a sort of rodent. They live underground in family groups like prairie dogs and feed on worms 'nd grubs that live in the mud."

"And that's what the machine thing tracks?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Just a hunting tool." The Doctor held up the rod and waved it around. "Dirt daubers are extremely valuable. A fur coat from a dirt dauber is four times as valuable as mink. Not to mention that they're a delicacy on several planets in the Veradai System. That's where we must be." He glanced up at the sky. "One of the moons of the largest planet, at a guess. Kerai's moons are all this bloody wet."

"So you're saying that a hunting tool was smart enough to hack the TARDIS?"

He shrugged. "There's a lot of money in the fur trade. Need breeds ingenuity. There was a recession around the 30th century, so a lot of people were desperate to make a few bucks. Bit sick, if you ask me. What kind of person wears something made of someone else's skin?"

I agreed, but raised an eyebrow. "Isn't your jacket leather?"

He scoffed and tugged at it. "Synthetic. All clothes on the TARDIS are synthetic. Better than the fake stuff on Earth, innit? Just like the real thing, 'cept no one had to die for it. Now, what about my sonic?"

The wind picked up, causing me to shiver. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my thin jacket. "I don't know. I guess the dirt dauber had some shelves to put up. It's his now."

The Time Lord pouted. "But I _like_ my sonic."

I softened at how sad he looked. A nine hundred year old puppy. There were only a few things that the Doctor allowed himself to get attached to, and the screwdriver was one of them. Even if he made himself a new one, he would mope about the loss of the old one for days. I _hated_ it when he was sad.

I groaned internally, knowing I would probably regret my next statement. "Well, if you have any ideas, I'm game."

The Doctor immediately brightened. "Perfect! Have you got your sonic?"

I nodded and dug it out of the small bag strapped to my leg. I held it out to him, careful not to push the button by mistake. The Doctor smiled but didn't take it.

"When I say so, keep it switched on, but keep it in your pocket so you don't lose it."

I grimaced, seeing where this was going. "This is stupid. It's not going to work."

The Doctor took a few steps back and crouched down into a ready position. He grinned at me mischievously. "Come on, it's not like Buffy Reid to back down from a challenge."

"Have you met me?" I retorted, but shoved the sonic securely into my pocket with my finger on the button. "Fine. Ready?"

The Doctor nodded and I pressed the button of the sonic pen, thinking hard about what I wanted to happen.

The surface of the mud practically exploded as several dozen muddy bowling balls erupted from their tunnels below and all charged for me. I gave a squeal of surprise when one of them took a flying leap in my direction. It landed solidly on my chest, knocking the wind out of my lungs and making me topple over backwards. The mud squished all the way up my back, coating everything from my feet to my hair like I'd fallen in brown paint.

"Eughh!" I squawked as water soaked through my clothes to the skin and chilled me to the bone. "Get off!"

The dirt dauber sniffed at my face, evidently confused. I saw my own reflection mirrored several hundred times in its segmented orange eyes before it seemed to realize I was technically a predator. With a frightened click of its massive front teeth, it whipped around and darted back into the safety of the mud.

A hand snagged me and lifted me back to my feet. The Doctor steadied me, glancing around at the dirt daubers as they scrambled around us, diving in and out of the mud as they tried to find the source of the agitating sound.

"Do you see it?" The Doctor asked hurriedly. "How do we know which one?"

A flash of silver caught my eye. "There!"

We both dove after it. Skidding, tripping, and falling as we chased the alien creature. It was much faster than us and had the advantage of looking exactly like the rest of its friends. It would run along the surface of the mud for a few yards, prompting one or both of us to sprint after it, then dive back into the depths.

"There he is!"

"Damn it! Where has he gone now?"

"Wait, what's this?"

"Ow! My foot!"

"Whoops!"

Within minutes, we were covered head to toe in thick, sticky clay. It matted in my hair and clogged up my boots. I gave a cry of frustration when my left leg sank all the way up to my thigh.

"Help! I'm stuck!"

The Doctor paused in his chase and lumbered over, gripping under my armpits and lifting me bodily out of the mud I was trapped in. Unfortunately, my boot was sucked off and left behind, mud encasing it and hiding it forever.

"My shoe!" I complained.

"You can get another boot. There he is again!"

The dirt dauber we were chasing popped up a few yards away. The Doctor went headlong for it. The Time Lord dove on top of the furry alien, catching it securely in his arms like an American football before it could touch the ground. He wrestled with it, one arm locked under the creature's head and the other around its chubby middle, trying not to get bitten or scratched as it struggled.

"Buff! Get it!"

I scrambled over and, without thinking, prized the alien rodent's jaws apart and snatched the sonic screwdriver out of its mouth. The Doctor immediately released the small thief and we both watched as it dove back into the mud and vanished.

I reached back into my pocket and switched off my sonic pen. As soon as the high pitched whirring stopped, the rest of the dirt daubers melted, one by one, back into the ground. Within ten seconds, the Doctor and I were alone again. We sat side by side, equally breathless and soaked.

The Time Lord looked over at me and I stared back. He was completely covered in mud, like someone had picked him up with a pair of tongs and dipped him in lumpy chocolate. His face, his jacket, everything. The only parts of him that weren't mud were his icy blue eyes, which contrasted starkly with the color of the earthy sludge. I knew I couldn't be much better off; I could feel the freezing substance drying on my cheeks.

The Doctor tipped back his head and laughed. It was a rare laugh, happy and carefree, as if all of the problems in the universe and within his mind simply didn't exist. I smiled as I watched him, grateful that these moments still existed. God knew he needed them every now and then.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_It had been a long day. A long few days. Some adventures were easy and fun, others were hard and fun, and then there are those that test you. Break you. Wear you down until there isn't much left._

_I was bone tired by the time we made it back to the TARDIS. I slogged in from the swamps of an alien planet and made a beeline for the shower. I barely managed to throw on some pajamas before collapsing into bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light._

_Considering how exhausted I was, it was strange that I woke up again in the deepest part of the night. I blinked blearily up at the holographic stars and watched as they winked at me through scant mist, giving the illusion of a cool, mid-autumn sky. The rest of the room was dark and silent. Nothing out of the ordinary and definitely nothing to have drawn me out of what had been a peaceful, dreamless sleep._

_I was startled out of the doze I had slipped back into by a low whine. The sound curled out of the darkness, frightened and needy; somewhere between an upset child and a dog that wanted in after being left outside in the cold._

_I wiggled up into a sitting position and looked over to see the Doctor laying on top of the covers beside me. The fact that he was in my bed wasn't unusual. In fact, I was starting to expect it. Usually he would sit and read or find something quiet to do while I slept. The fact he was actually sleeping himself was a rarity. I couldn't recall the last time I'd seen him sleep, or even if I ever had at all._

_Another whine bubbled up from his throat. He was frowning, his face twitching in response to whatever dream he was trapped in. The Doctor grunted and his fingers wiggled against his chest while his frown deepened into an almost painful grimace._

" _Doctor." I reached out to take his fidgeting hand. "Doctor, wake up."_

_The instant I touched him, the Time Lord sprang to his feet, scaring the hell out of us both. He stared wildly around the room in search of the threat before turning to squint at me tiredly. I clamped a hand over my heart as if that would stop it from racing._

" _Whasit?" Slurred the Doctor, still not entirely awake. He stood there stiffly, like he was unsure whether to fight or run as he desperately tried to see straight. "What's wrong?"_

" _Nothing," I placated. "I think you were having a nightmare."_

_The Doctor blinked at me a few times, pondering the statement. Then his shoulders sagged as he realized the truth in my words._

" _Oh." His voice was small and confused, like he wasn't sure what had happened, but felt like he should probably be embarrassed. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and stared around the room some more._

" _Want to talk about it?"_

" _No, no," he mumbled, scrubbing his eyes with a clumsy hand. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you. I'll… uh… I'll just be going."_

" _Hold it," I ordered, stopping him from heading to the door. I lifted up the blankets beside me and held them open invitingly. "C'mere. You're just as beat as I am."_

_He stared at me doubtfully for a few moments, but ultimately complied. The Doctor slipped under the covers facing me, immediately snuggling down with a content sigh that tickled my chin. I didn't hesitate to wrap my arms around his shoulders, hoping to ward off any other bad dreams that might come his way._

_After that night, he started sleeping in my bed more often. At least once a week, he would show up at my door and politely ask if it was alright if he stayed in my room for the night._

_I always said yes, and he would curl up beside me like he belonged there. Nothing else happened, not that I expected it to. I loved the intimacy that came with it, even if it wasn't romantic or sexual. It was a nice, familial closeness that I lost when I was dumped into this foreign universe._

_When Geordie was little, he would wake me up in the middle of the night. With bleary eyes and the well-loved stuffed turtle he inherited from me clutched in his fist, he would ask if he could stay in my bed. Just for tonight. All three of us went through a stage where we had chronic bad dreams._

_When we were together, we had fewer nightmares._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

When the Doctor finally giggled himself out, he went back to where he had left the dirt dauber rod. It was sticking upright in the mud like a metal letter Y. I sat down, no longer caring about the mud, and tugged off my other boot. The thick mud squished unpleasantly between my toes, but was easy to ignore. Tucking the single boot under my arm, I sloshed back to the Doctor's side.

He grinned and immediately launched into a spiel about the dirt daubers and various techniques used to hunt them. I watched him as he rambled, cataloging each expression that crossed his face. He was in his element; on an alien world, filthy, and explaining something fascinating to a human friend.

Warmth spread through my chest as I watched him, tingling from my fingertips to my toes and chasing away the cold that lingered from the freezing mud. The rest of the miserable alien planet faded away until all I could see was him, talking with his hands and grinning at the most mundane factoids because every tiny detail was just so fascinating and wonderful. I was struck by how beautiful he was. Every part of him, from his big ears to his sharp nose, high cheekbones, toothy smile, and stormy blue eyes _radiated_ light. Radiated _him_. He oozed with life, both at his best moments and his worst; the physical embodiment of time, of everything in the universe worth seeing, of every secret worth knowing.

And it was _beautiful_.

This wasn't a new feeling. I'd been feeling it for months, but it had gotten stronger in recent weeks. The first time I noticed it was in the console room. It had been a quiet day. I was sitting on the jumpseat, drinking tea that he had made for me. I was wearing a loose t-shirt and fuzzy socks, absently reading a book from the 28th century. The Doctor was sitting on the floor nearby, talking at me while he tinkered. The TARDIS hummed like rain drizzling on a roof. Everything was peaceful and _right_.

The feeling had bubbled up in me much like it had now, somehow both surprising and completely expected. I welcomed it, but wished it wasn't there. It was both a blessing and a curse.

I wasn't stupid. I knew what the feeling was - what it meant - but refused to give it a name. Once I identified it, admitted to it, it would be too late. It was a feeling that I knew could never be requited, and I wasn't going to burn myself out with false hope. Doctor was supposed to feel it for other people. Never for me.

_It couldn't be me._

The knowledge of what was to come - the _people_ that were going to be - burned in my mind. But my foreknowledge couldn't stop me from feeling, just as it couldn't stop me from appreciating how the Doctor _shined_.

"We'll hang onto this," the Doctor explained, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil as we slogged back to the console room. "We can't stop them from hunting the dirt daubers, but we can keep 'em from using this ever again."

I made a joke about hunting and he laughed before we went our separate ways to get cleaned up. While I scrubbed the mud off of my skin in the shower, I evaluated the situation.

The time for Rose to join us was drawing near. I could feel it hanging over my head, pressing down more and more with each passing day. Realistically, I knew that there wasn't an actual time limit. The TARDIS and time travel ensured that. The Doctor and I existed between two moments in time - the dreams a child had between falling asleep and waking up again. Every adventure we'd had thus far happened those few seconds when the Doctor left Rose and rematerialized to tell her that his little blue box was, in fact, a time machine. I could have a lifetime between those two moments. But at the same time, I knew I shouldn't.

The more time with him I had - the moments I stole away and I kept to myself - the harder it was going to be to face reality. The feelings I had for him vamped up the urgency. The sooner Rose was on board to usurp the Doctor's attention, the better; the _easier_ it would be for me to move on.

After I was scrubbed clean, I found that I was too restless to sleep. I wandered the TARDIS for a bit, eventually making my way to the kitchen. I browsed the food and drink selection idly, musing between decaf coffee and tea.

I needed to remind him of Rose. He seemed to have forgotten, or at least didn't see a reason to go back for the blonde. She had turned down his offer, hadn't she? What point was there in asking again?

I leaned against the counter and swallowed down some of my bitterness with the cup of decaffeinated coffee, sweetened heavily with hazelnut creamer.

_Why should she get a second chance?_

Forget my special feelings for the Time Lord, I already knew they were pointless. What else could I lose when she came? He was my best friend, _my only friend_. The closest thing I had to family. Bringing Rose along would mean having to share his attention, his companionship.

I was selfish. I didn't want to share.

But was it really selfishness when you were being asked to share the only thing you had?

I was startled out of my thoughts by arms wrapping around my middle. They tugged me backwards, pulling me securely against a hard surface that I knew to be the Doctor's chest. He hugged me warmly from behind. I felt the weight of his head on the top of my skull as he rested his chin there.

"You're unhappy," the Doctor observed, soft voice rumbling in his chest. It was a statement, and hidden within it was the question, _Why?_

I sighed heavily, some of the tension leaving me as I leaned back into his touch. I folded my hands over his, caressing the bumps and lines of his fingers and wrists, debating on what I should say.

I wanted to tell him everything. How I felt; about him and Rose. How I was scared of losing him and being alone. How much I missed my family and how I was jealous of a person neither of us had seen in nearly a year. How even _thinking_ about the episodes made me feel like I wasn't real. I was a story, a dream, and everything else was reality.

Instead I said, "Just tired."

The Doctor hummed in acknowledgement, blatantly not buying it. He stroked my forearm with his thumb and squeezed me tighter for a few moments before letting go.

He didn't leave though. Instead he leaned down, resting his elbows on the counter so that he was at my eye level.

Sometimes I forget how hilariously shorter I am than him.

"Why don't you sleep, then?" He suggested with a kind smile that didn't quite match his searching eyes. "You just got back from a long trip."

"Why don't you?" I shot back, finding comfort in the familiarity of the banter.

He rolled his shoulders, shrugging mildly. "Dunno. Maybe I'm just waitin' for you to settle down so I can join you."

I tried not to think of the other implications that could be attached to that statement, especially those that I knew he didn't mean. That sort of thinking _was absolutely not helpful_.

"Couldn't settle down," I explained, taking another drink from my mug.

"Any particular reason?"

"Not really."

The Doctor quirked his eyebrows.

"Seriously."

The disbelieving expression remained fixed.

I rolled my eyes and hopped up to sit on the counter. The Doctor shifted over once I was in place, coming to stand in front of me with a hand on either side of my legs.

I pretended to think for a second, intentionally making the issue seem less bothersome than it was.

"I've been thinking," I began nonchalantly, pretending that my heart wasn't pounding out of my chest. Hopefully he couldn't hear it. "About, you know, this universe and mine. The episodes, specifically."

"What about them?" The Doctor inquired, brow furrowed.

"They aren't happening," I pointed out. "We never set them off."

"So?"

"They have to happen eventually," I pointed out. "I think they _need_ to happen."

The Doctor pondered this for a moment, but nodded. "Alright. So why haven't they started up yet?"

"Because of Rose."

"Rose?" The Time Lord frowned. "You mean the girl from London? The blonde from the Autons, where I first met you?"

"Yeah, that's her." I felt a little guilty at how relieving it was that he was so disinterested in her.

"What's so important about her?"

"She's supposed to be your companion," I explained. "You're supposed to go back for her, and that triggers the episodes."

"Why do we need her as a companion?"

"Doctor, you _need_ your companions. You _need_ humans."

"But I've already got a human." When he said it, he said it so warmly, like it was a simple fact that he was especially fond of. He had a human, and it was me.

That simple statement sent warmth flooding through my veins. I had been his travelling companion for nearly a year, but I'd never really seen myself as a _companion_ companion. Maybe it was because I still felt like I was outside this universe, stuck on the fact that I wasn't really meant to _be_ here, but I always thought of myself as one of those temporary companions. The ones that hung out for an episode or two before leaving or dying.

It was really nice to know that he didn't see me that way.

I smiled and he smiled back. He was used to me. I was his friend. Our adventures weren't just there to fill in the time between two real moments. They were real, too. Real moments shared by two friends as they explored the universe together.

I slid off the counter and looped him into a hug. He returned it, holding me tightly against him like I would fade away if he lost his grip. I rested my ear on his chest and listened to the double beat of his twin hearts.

 _This is real,_ I thought. _I'm real_.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	23. The Nightmare Paradigm - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until this is caught up with what I have written. 
> 
> WARNING:
> 
> DEATH. DESCRIPTION OF HANGING

* * *

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Twenty Three: The Nightmare Paradigm** _

_**Part One** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

I woke up slowly, which was a rarity. Usually the Doctor would wake me up, barging loudly into my room to shake me insistently, proclaiming that I'd had more than enough sleep and that he was going to go somewhere without me if I didn't get up _that instant_. Even when the Doctor did sleep in my room, he was up and moving around hours before I was, and always got bored a long time before I'd had the chance to sleep for as long as I wanted.

Blinking up at the pale dawn of the holographic ceiling, I basked in deep feelings of peace. It was like waking up early on a Saturday morning when I was a kid: the sun would be up, but no one else would. Outside was still and quiet, save for the lazy droning of the odd insect and the faint titterings of nearby birds.

Unfortunately, the more I woke up, the more suspicious I became. I frowned, not trusting the silence.

I propped myself up on my elbows and gazed around the room. Unsurprisingly, I was alone. I briefly considered taking advantage of the peaceful faux-dawn and going back to sleep, but it only took a few more moments for worry to take hold. Living with the Doctor was a bit like living with a small child; if they were quiet, there was probably something wrong.

Foregoing getting dressed, I slipped on my tennis shoes and snagged my dressing gown, pulling it over my t-shirt that had holes in the armpits and pajama pants and stepping out into the corridors.

"Doctor?" I called, though I didn't expect him to necessarily be close enough to hear me.

The halls were tidier than they used to be. The metal was clean and polished, clear of dust and grime. The dark corners and dim halls were eliminated by warm light, which emanated softly from the walls.

Although I had been on my way to the console room, the corridor that had led to it the day before ended in a metal door. Unfazed, I opened it and wandered through what appeared to be the perfume department of a mall.

I sighed heavily and kept walking straight, knowing that if I stopped, I would get lost; though I did pause to sample a few of the scents. Citrus. Chocolate. Old books. Roses.

Rooms in the TARDIS were constantly shifting, moving around like dolls in a haunted playroom. Finding your way had a knack to it, which generally depended on intent. If you knew where you wanted to go, you would find yourself there in the end.

Most of the time. If the TARDIS was in a mood, you could wander for ages.

The exit to the perfume department led to the pool, which led to an empty warehouse. The warehouse then led back into itself, and I had to pass through it three times before, finally - mercifully - I walked the short stretch of corridor that precluded the console room.

"Feeling a little frisky today, are we?" I asked the ceiling snidely as I rounded the console. "Do you know where he is?"

The TARDIS made a grumbling noise, causing me to frown. Obviously, the TARDIS couldn't actually speak, but that didn't stop her from complaining. I tilted my head and listened for the idling of the engines, which would indicate we were still in flight. Hearing none, my attention was drawn to the doors, which looked no different than usual.

"Is he outside?" Wondering if I should've changed into proper clothes first, I made my way to the doors and opened them.

I was suddenly very, very, very glad that the TARDIS was sentient. If she wasn't, and thus wouldn't have thought to activate some sort of shielding, I probably would've drowned.

We were underwater. Deep underwater. Bubbles streamed up from the sides of the blue box as it sank deeper and deeper into the darkness. I could taste the salt as the water strained against the forcefield that held it fast at the doorframe.

I couldn't make out much, but it was night. I could just make out the surface of the water high above, a rippling curtain between me and a night sky. I clung tightly to the door as the little blue box twisted and swirled, tossed about as it was caught in an eddy and was sucked violently downward.

I looked down for the cause.

My blood turned to ice at the terribly-awesome sight. A horrified gasp forced its way into my lungs.

Below, hulking like a leviathan in the darkness, was a massive ship.

It wasn't a spaceship. Though I wished it were. It was just an ordinary, human ship, large enough to have carried hundreds of people. Grief mixed with my horror as the last few lights from within the ocean liner sputtered pitifully and blinked away. The steel, straining under the massive weight of the ocean above it, groaned like a dying animal. Its cries, muffled by the sea, echoed faintly in my ears like a sad, half-forgotten song.

Horrified chills wracked my body and I hurried to shut the doors back. I rubbed my arms, trying to soothe the goosebumps and shake off feelings of shock as I scrambled to the console and began fiddling with the monitor. There was no time to think about all of the death that I had just undoubtedly witnessed. If the TARDIS was deep in the ocean, the Doctor couldn't be far away.

I flicked a few switched and twiddled a knob, tuning the TARDIS sensors to scan for the Time Lord with practiced ease. The Doctor had insisted on teaching me some of the basic functions of the timeship, reasoning that, as a long-term resident, I should be able to care for myself and her when he wasn't around. With that said, I knew how most of the scanners worked, could reroute power from emergency energy cells, run a diagnostic, manually reshuffle the rooms, and a few other odds and ends. He was also slowly teaching me the basics of piloting, but I hadn't completely worked it out yet. What I did understand was the car equivalent of starting the engine, putting her in drive, and then back in park. Flying to unknown places was confusing as hell, but I could manage short hops so long as the coordinates were already set.

Thankfully, no more than a short hop was required. The monitor displayed the results of the scan, a light blue map on an inky black background. I could see the TARDIS, represented by a glowing green dot sinking lower and lower on the screen as we descended past nine hundred feet. Just above the line representing the ocean surface was a blinking red dot. The Doctor.

At least he wasn't still on the ship.

Recognition tickled at the back of my mind. Not quite deja vu. It wasn't a memory, but the concept seemed familiar. An episode, perhaps?

_I ended up clinging to an iceberg. Wasn't half cold._

Ah.

I locked in the coordinates of the Doctor's location, which was drifting away slowly, and slammed down the dematerialization lever. The room filled with the familiar wheezing, louder and crankier than usual as the ship protested being piloted without Time Lord supervision.

"It's only a few hundred yards," I reasoned, sliding a lever. "We have to pick him up."

The TARDIS growled. The lever snapped back into place as the ship righted the mistake. I winced and flipped the one beside it - the correct one.

"Right. Sorry."

The TARDIS grumbled. The next lever in the sequence refused to budge. I tugged at it half-heartedly while gazing imploringly up at the time rotor.

"We can't just leave him there!"

Grumble.

"You saw the scan! We're a thousand feet underwater. Do you really want to sit at the bottom of the ocean for the next few millennia?"

Grumble.

"How would he even get to us? He's stuck on an iceberg."

The lever finally slid into place. The TARDIS heaved herself out of the ocean and into the vortex, only to exit it a half second later. Despite the simplicity of the hop, the ship seemed to be having trouble landing. After a moment's struggle, she settled back into the vortex, somewhat sheepish.

I blinked, trying to work out what had gone wrong. The Doctor had touched upon the topic before, but it had been part of a much longer spiel and I couldn't remember exactly what all had been said. Something about the landing site, right? Too small.

Too uneven. Too something-or-another. The point was that the landing site was no good, and there were only two ways to fix it: redistribute the outer dimensions to compensate and mold around uneven ground, or plug in new coordinates and land somewhere else.

Unfortunately, I didn't trust myself to do either.

The TARDIS resumed her complaining when I tried to land her in the exact same spot again, hoping for different results. And then again.

Geronimo the mouse poked his head out from a new crack in the wall. He twitched his whiskers, wondering what all the fuss was about.

I wondered how irritating it was for the Doctor, watching his ship fading in and out of existence, feeling her way around the iceberg like a blind dog searching for a soft spot to lay down.

On the fourth try, I finally got fed up enough to risk shifting the coordinates. Up six inches and a foot to the left. Or so I hoped. Coordinates in a TARDIS were a mess, because they dealt with time, planet, galaxy, and a whole other mess of digits. But as long as I didn't mess with the time or galaxy settings, it should be fine.

This time the TARDIS materialized without trouble. The engines kept thrumming in the background, but we seemed to be where I had hoped we would be.

Sure enough, I flung open the doors and found the TARDIS sitting in midair. The view was impressive. The iceberg wasn't a big one, akin in size to a van. Larger at the base than at the top, it was somewhat conical, like a scale model of a jagged mountain peak rising up out of the plains. A luminescent smear of white against the darkness of the sea. The blue box was hovering about a foot away from the hunk of ice, only a few inches above the swirling grey water. Whatever triumph I felt was somewhat dampened when I lifted my gaze to stare into the face of a rather sour-looking Time Lord.

The Doctor stood a few meters away, contrasting starkly against the white of the iceberg. He had his arms folded across his chest, holding his sodden leather jacket closed and wrapped tightly around him in a vain attempt to ward off the cold. The ice reflected what little light the stars offered onto his face, illuminating the displeasure etched across his angular features. The Time Lord was higher up, well out of the reach of the water splashing against his frozen island.

"You're phasing out the engines," he snapped irately. "I've been realigning those for months. I'll be shocked if you didn't dent the century."

I thought I had done pretty well, all things considered. The comments stung and I bit my tongue to stop myself from spitting back a retort. He was cold, wet, and clearly distraught. I let the crankiness slide.

"What happened to your head?" I said instead, indicating the splash of red dribbling from his temple.

The Doctor blinked and swiped his hand across the afflicted area, seeming surprised when it came away bloody. He shrugged it off, wiping the blood on his sodden jeans.

"Dunno. Must've banged it."

"Okay. I'll take a look at it." I extended a hand in his direction. "Come on, before you get hypothermia."

"Time Lords can't get hypothermia," he scoffed, beginning to pick and slide his way down the icy shelf.

By the time he made it down, the iceberg had had the time to drift a few feet, widening the gap between TARDIS and ice. I glanced doubtfully at the water sucking ominously at the edge of the berg as the Doctor tottered unsteadily at the edge. The Time Lord didn't seem to share my concerns. He gestured for me to take a step back before leaping across. He stumbled when his boots snagged on the rough grating, but I was there to steady him.

Geronimo let out a sequel of protest at all the noise and darted back into his hole.

The Doctor briefly draped his arm across my shoulders and I winced as cold Atlantic water soaked into my thin nightshirt. Up close now, in the light of the console room, the strain on his face was perfectly clear. He was tired, his skin pale and drawn from the cold, his eyes distant and haunted. My mind snapped back to what I had seen earlier, the sinking ship. I leaned in closer and gave his hand a squeeze.

"Why don't you give me your jacket and boots, and I'll go ahead and run them through the clothes reprocessor."

The Doctor nodded wearily and started trying to strip off his jacket, but the leather was sodden and clung to his form. I had to reach over and tug the heavy material from his shoulders while he kicked off his boots.

"You go ahead to the medbay and get changed," I instructed, scooping up the jacket and boots. "I'll be there in a minute to check your head."

The Doctor agreed absently and plodded off. After a moment's thought, I deposited his things onto the jumpseat and returned my attention to the console. Hovering probably wasn't the best thing for the TARDIS, so I plugged in one of the default coordinates - a high orbit around Earth - and made sure we got there safely.

That done, I did as I'd promised and tossed his things into the reprocessor. On my way to the medbay I swung by my room to quickly change out of my pajamas before winding back through the corridors. Thankfully, the TARDIS was feeling more helpful than she had been earlier, and getting there was a breeze.

In the ten or so minutes that had passed, the Doctor had changed out of his wet clothes, which lay discarded in a puddle on the floor. The Time Lord himself sat hunched in one of the metal chairs, picking at the hem of his dry jumper and staring down at his bare feet.

I padded over to one of the cabinets and grabbed anesthetic wipes and a dermal regenerator; both old friends. Once at the Doctor's side I didn't hesitate to start dabbing gingerly at the place on his head. It turned out to be an inch long cut where the skin had split.

The Doctor stayed silent while I cleaned his head and set to knitting the gash back together. The haunted look in his eyes made me nervous, as by now I knew it to mean that his mind was in a dark place.

The Doctor had good days and bad days. Yesterday had been a very good day, but mental health could come and go in waves, and so today was a bad one.

"The _Titanic_?" I asked quietly, keeping my eyes on the blinking instrument that was actively reducing the bruising around his temple.

He didn't look up. "Yeah."

"Want to tell me about it?"

"No."

I tucked away the medical tool and pressed my hand against his jaw, tipping his face up to catch his gaze. When he finally managed to look me in the eye, signaling his attention was on me and not lingering on the horrors of a sinking ship, I pressed my lips to his forehead. Still clammy and cold from the sea. He leaned into the affection with a soft sigh. One of his arms wrapped around my waist, encouraging me to wrap my own around his neck and tug him into a hug.

He needed a shower. The smell of salt lingered on his skin despite his change of clothes. I could taste it from where I'd kissed him. It wasn't pleasant, but I didn't really mind.

The Doctor hid his face in my chest for a few minutes, allowing himself a little time to rally before pulling away with a smile that was a little too wide to be genuine. He sprang to his feet and began tidying away the blood smeared wipes that I had piled up on the examination table beside the chair.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" I asked, not trusting him to tell me unprompted.

"Nah," he said, dumping the wipes unceremoniously into the trash bin. "Slipped on deck, tha's all."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yep! Hungry, though. Wouldn't mind some breakfast, though. How does banana crepes sound?"

Liar. He wasn't hungry. He could hardly stand the sight of food on his bad days. But on the same note he knew _I knew_ it was an off day, and was trying to make it seem like he was fine.

It didn't work, of course. A year of TARDIS travel, and he'd pulled the same trick before. But it made him feel a little better, so I played along.

"Sounds great. Here, or do you have a place in mind?"

He beamed. "I know a spot!"

Of course he did.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The TARDIS landed in a field, a little splash of blue standing out amongst long yellowed-green grass that hunched over in clumps, blown flat by the wind. The field was roughly the size of a football field, flanked on three sides by a deep, foreboding forest full of ancient trees with gnarled trunks. The remaining side was edged by what could be considered as a very large medieval town. The buildings were wooden and squat and the streets looked to be cobblestone. Smoke rose merrily from chimneys, the smell of woodsmoke and nearby farms sweetening the air. The sound of hooves and wooden wheels clattering on the stone streets drifted towards us on the warm breeze, mixing pleasantly with the distant hum of voices.

Violet mountains rose in every direction, placing both town and field at the bottom of a massive bowl. I gazed up wistfully at the sapphire blue oval of sky, the mountains and sweet air reminding me of home.

 _Home_. Such an odd concept. And if not odd, conflicted. These days, I referred to the TARDIS as home. It was the closest thing I had to one. But no matter how much I told myself that it was, the word _home_ still turned my thoughts to the small wooden house in the middle of the woods. To my brothers, parents, and pets. I hadn't seen them in nearly two and a half years, and the loss still echoed dully through my chest.

 _Distraction_. Another odd concept. One that both the Doctor and I sought out for reasons that were both so similar and so very different. Both trying to forget pasts, but while he strove to forget a past he wanted to get away from, I needed to be distracted from a past I wanted to get back to.

The Doctor walked up beside me and offered a brilliant smile that was slightly offset by the knowing glint in his eyes.

As much as he needed me to distract him, he was more than willing to return the favor.

I returned the smile and linked my arm with his.

"Earth?" I asked as we began picking our way through the tall grass.

"Nope. Looks a lot like it, though, doesn't it?"

I nodded. The closer we got, the more Earth-like it seemed. Somewhere between the 1300s and the 1600s, developmentally speaking. The creatures pulling the carts were unmistakably horses, being driven by people that certainly looked a lot like humans. A wire-haired, black and white terrier darted about, nipping at hooves and being a general nuisance.

"A colony _from_ Earth?" I hazarded a guess.

The Doctor's smile was a little more genuine. "You're learning. It's a little world called Tamia. Failed deep space colony about three galaxies away from Earth."

"Failed?"

We hopped the fence separating the town from the field and slipped seamlessly into the scant crowds milling about the cobblestone street.

"Yeah. Computer matrix collapsed… neuro-interlink matrix, too. Those aren't supposed to break down, but it did. Shame."

"Neuro-interlink?"

"Connects telepathically to the community, forms a sort of link between the computer and the human brains and uses them for processing power."

The little black and white terrier came dashing out from around a passing carriage, only just avoiding being crushed by the hooves of the large bay horse pulling it. It paused a few yards ahead of us with its head cocked. I couldn't imagine why it would find us so interesting.

"Cool," I said as the scraggly thing scurried off. Maybe we smelled funny. "But wouldn't that be kinda, I don't know, invasive?"

He shrugged. "The people aren't aware of it, and it doesn't access any memories and whatnot that they don't want it to."

"But when the main computer went down…"

"The society went with it. Tech, electricity, everything. They had all the stuff they needed to survive, livestock, crops, and so on. Anarchy for a few generations. Long enough for society to devolve. They did pretty well for themselves, though. By now they've spread all across the main continent. A few million, all divided up into kingdoms and duchy and whatnot."

"History repeats."

"Absolutely."

"So where are we, exactly?"

The Doctor dislodged himself from my arm and strode out into the street. The Doctor ignored the mumbled complaints and curses thrown his way as the stream of horse-drawn traffic was forced to go around. I smiled apologetically but didn't hesitate to scurry to his side. The Doctor tucked me into his side once more and lifted his arm, pointing above the treeline to the nearest purple mountain that looked on the other side of the town. My eyes flickered back and forth, drinking in the sight before me.

Carved into the side of the mountain, two large buildings looked over the town like disinterested gods pondering whether or not they should grind it under heel. One of them resembled a mansion, neat and tidy with impressively vague stone carvings and spiraling gardens leaking out from the edges where the stone of the house met the mostly cleared foliage of the mountain.

The second building was a little smaller, significantly more odd and somehow much more impressive. Most of it resembled a large metal egg that had been driven halfway into the side of the mountain at a peculiar angle. Large chunks of the egg seemed to have fallen away and the gaps left behind had been haphazardly patches with lumps of stone - similar in kind to the rock forming the neighboring house. A stone building had been built around three sides of the egg like mushrooms growing up around the base of a tree trunk. The egg's curved peak protruded proudly from the pale stone, giving the impression that the building was a scarf for a very large silver entity that was simply peeking its head out of the ground to take a look at the town below.

I ignored the crude comment a man in a cart tossed in my general direction and grinned.

"Was that the ship?" I asked, referencing the egg. "The one the original colonizers came in?"

"Good," the Doctor conceded. "This is Tamial, where the first colonizers landed and started building. Now it's a religious site, cos no one really remembers what happened. See the building around the base? That's a cathedral. Exterreri Cathedral."

We'd been to much more interesting places with much more extravagant architecture, but I nodded along, deeply fascinated. Not that it was hard to keep me entertained. We could land at a gas station in Ohio to collect discarded change in the parking lot and I would be happy simply because it was someplace different.

"What about the other building?" I inquired, indicating the more homogeneous structure.

"Duke's estate," the Doctor explained with a dismissive wave. "Let's get a shift on. We're holding up traffic."

"Are we going to the cathedral?" My heart fluttered pleasantly when the Doctor twined our fingers together and tugged me back through the loose crowd of people dribbling down the sides of the road.

"Course not," he scoffed. "We're here for crepes, remember? Don't let the climate fool you. The bananas they grow here are fantastic."

"But _after_ …?"

"You really think we'd come all this way and not go sightseeing?"

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The bananas _were_ fantastic. And very, very yellow. Unnaturally yellow. When I pointed this out to the Doctor he responded with a very long, in depth explanation about _biodiversity_ and the _evolution of the banana throughout history_ , not at all hindered by the crepe he continuously shoveled into his mouth.

I chewed at my own food more slowly, savoring it while I listened to him talk. I was pretty good at following along, though it had taken a good deal of practice to keep up with his train of thought as it jumped tracks at random. The history of bananas might not have been the most interesting topic, but I enjoyed it well enough. Especially since the Doctor mostly seemed to have shaken off his previous gloom.

The restaurant the Doctor had led me to was a simple, dainty little business in the center square of the town. Apparently the Doctor had been here before, as he was greeted warmly by the owner, a jolly rotund man with a scraggly beard and rosy cheeks. He sat us down at a table outside so we could enjoy the nice weather and view of the cathedral.

It was a beautiful day. A steady flow of people tricked up and down the street, shopping and bartering and eating, their voices humming together lazily like bees droning lazily in the early summer breeze.

When the Doctor seemed to lose interest in banana history, talk turned to the comparison of Jacobean England and current Tamia when I remarked on how much cleaner this town was than Earth had been during the handful of times I'd visited the 1600s.

The Doctor explained that, while the society had devolved, the people hadn't lost the inherent expectation of bathing regularly and maintaining body hair and odor. There was also a pretty efficient waste disposal system, which kept the public from tossing out chamber pots into the streets - all for which I was grateful. Walking around a densely populated area that had yet to develop indoor plumbing was always an unpleasant experience.

The Doctor was halfway through a particularly graphic, yet hilarious story about the construction of a Roman aqueduct when the pleasant atmosphere was shattered by distant shouts and the thunder of hooves.

The Time Lord immediately turned in his seat and peered down the street with sharp eyes, going from effortlessly charming to alert within an instant. I leaned all the way out to be able to see around his leather-clad shoulder, only to jerk back when three massive horses thundered past.

They were huge, gorgeous beasts. Their nostrils flared wildly as they tossed their neatly braided manes. They rode shoulder to shoulder, taking up almost the entire width of the street. The sound of their hooves on the stone ground was terrifying, and if that wasn't enough to send everyone in the street skittering out of the way, then their riders finished the job.

The riders were guards of some kind, or perhaps soldiers. They wore striking red uniforms with shining buttons of polished silver. On their heads perched tall hats of long silky black fur that waved and shimmered in the mid-morning sun.

The guards barked orders to _clear the road!_ from their mounts as they sped past. It was extremely effective, of course, as a person would be hard pressed to try to argue with a man while he was on a horse nearly twice as tall as he was.

But this approach also drew a lot of attention. People were running out of shops and streaming in from side streets, where they crowded along the edge of the main road. The relaxed hum of voices rose into a raucous chatter as they babbled their excitement to each other like jays.

"What's going on?" I asked the Doctor, who suddenly looked grim.

He kept his eyes fixed on something a little ways down the road. As the taller friend, he could see a lot further than I could.

"Look."

Another guard came trotting down the road on another fearsome horse. The pair moved more slowly than the others, but no less proud. Behind them came a sturdy black draft horse, much more worn than the stallions. It pulled a wagon, on which sat a large wooden cage.

Inside sat a dirty woman dressed in rags. Dried blood splattered across her forehead like a horrible crown. As she was wheeled by, I caught a glimpse of her face, of her young features and wide, frightened eyes.

"Doctor, what are they going to do with her?"

The Doctor stayed silent, signaling that he knew exactly what was happening and didn't like it. My answer came through the mouths of the people surrounding us.

"Hang the witch!"

"Murderer!"

"Hang 'er!"

"Witch!"

My stomach churned unpleasantly, making me wish I hadn't eaten as much breakfast as I had. I tried to swallow the feeling, but my mouth was dry.

A witch hanging.

The Doctor watched as the procession rattled off on the cobblestones, around the bend, and out of sight before turning back to me.

"Oh, my god," I breathed. My horror was replaced by disgust as the crowd filed in behind the cart. They continued shouting and jeering, tossing bits of spoiled fruit and garbage at the cage.

"You said it earlier," the Doctor growled. "History repeats. Just so happens that human history is about as blood-soaked as they come."

"Is there anything we can do?"

The Doctor pressed his lips into a thin line. "Dunno. But whatever you do, don't use the medallion. They've got one witch. They'll be quick to string you up too if they see anything unusual. Got it?"

I nodded grimly, remembering what had happened the last time I was careless with it. Vanishing into thin air around certain people could frighten them. I'd been shot at and nearly drowned enough times, thanks. The medallion was tucked securely against my chest. I rubbed it through the fabric, finding comfort in the familiar contours of the metal.

"Come on."

The Time Lord strode fearlessly into the crowd. I scrambled after him despite my trepidation. He was right, human history was drenched in blood. I knew public executions had been popular on Earth. Parents would take their kids and make a day of it. It was horrible. Barbaric. I had seen a lot of death after traveling through time and space for over a year, but this sort would be a first for me, one that I would really rather avoid.

But the Doctor seemed to think that we should investigate, so I didn't have much choice but to follow. And anyway, if there was anything we could do to help, we would have to be there. In the crowd.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

The crowd followed the cart through the town and up the nearest mountain. The destination was clear. Exterreri Cathedral. It loomed over us, threatening to roll free of the building keeping it tethered and crush us all like a boulder. The metal dome towered over the treetops, weather-polished silver reflecting the light of the sun onto the terraced gardens.

Despite the vibrant flowers and over abundance of green, I found myself shivering in the warm air. At first I thought it was in horrified anticipation of what we were about to witness, but then turned into something deeper. Sinister.

The Doctor noticed and took my hand. He gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Got some needlework to do?" He asked softly, keeping the statement normal enough for the blood-thirsty crowd swarming around us to not notice.

"Maybe," I said quietly. I could feel something fizzing, but it felt feverish in a way I couldn't really explain. Like it was sick. "But something's wrong. Everything feels…"

The Doctor gave my hand a warning squeeze, reminding me to mind my words. "We'll talk about it later."

I nodded and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The feeling intensified the closer we came to the Cathedral. My understanding of the Otherside had grown in recent months. If I concentrated, I could sense the difference between the vibrations a rift gave off and those from a chronomite. There was a rift in the Cathedral, of that much I was sure. Nothing special about it, as far as I could tell. But something else was shifting around nearby.

Did chronomites get sick?

The gates to Exterreri Cathedral stood open, guarded by more soldiers in red. We followed the shouting crowd into a pristine courtyard full of neatly trimmed grass. Dotted amongst the elegantly shaped hedgery and beds of plump flowers were marble statues of cowering figures, their faces twisted with horror and fear.

"Exterreri."

I glanced up to see the Doctor looking at them too, wearing a slight scowl.

"Huh?"

"Exterreri," he explained. "It means _nightmare_ in Latin."

_Nightmare Cathedral._

The wagon stopped at the stairs leading up into the cathedral. I stood on my toes, trying to get a good look at the woman as she was dragged unceremoniously out of the cage. The wagon rolled away and she was frogmarched up the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, a dark archway in what once was a mighty colony ship yawned over a wooden platform. A metal bar ran across the top of the arch, from which a noose dangled.

I shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the chronomite.

The Doctor gestured to the platform. "The Cardinal."

Beside the arch stood a tall, weedy man with a mustache dressed in leather tinted the color of dried blood. The Cardinal stood proudly with his hands folded behind his back, surveying the crowd before him with an air of self-assured dignity.

"That's not just an archway," the Doctor whispered, low enough that only I could hear. "It's an access terminal to the ship's computer matrix.

I grimaced as an overexcited woman beside me lost her balance and stumbled into my shoulder. I rubbed at it ruefully. "It doesn't look like a terminal."

"Telepathic, remember? You don't need to press buttons to communicate with it."

I swallowed nervously as the poor woman was made to climb the platform. The Cardinal had the gall to smile at her as the executioner lifted up up to place her on a tall stool and forced her to stand still as the noose was lowered around her neck.

"Is there any way to help her?"

The Doctor was frowning, thinking. But the Cardinal stepped forward to the edge of the platform. He was speaking out to the crowd, shouting, but the amassed and bloodthirsty people only got louder. I was able to pick out a few words, like 'murder' and 'heresy'.

Maybe witch hangings happened enough in Tamia for the citizens to have the speech down to memory.

The crowd let out a road as another man strode out onto the platform. He was on the young side, perhaps in his late twenties, and decently handsome. Russet hair curled over his ears, offset nicely by the fine blue fabrics that he wore.

The newcomer strode right up to the Cardinal and began speaking to him angrily, ignoring the booes and hisses from the crowd.

"Stay out of the church, spoilsport!"

"Still wet be'ind the ears, that one is. He's got no business here."

"How can he be trusted with the title if he can't even hang a witch properly?"

Whoever he was, everyone knew him, and not everyone liked him. But despite the crowd's chagrin, he wasn't being muscled off the stage by the Cardinal's guards. He was too important for that.

The young man turned to face the crowd, which quieted enough for me to be able to make out the words.

"I'm sorry, everyone!" He held out his arms placatingly. "But this event is to be postponed indefinitely by decree of the Duchy. This woman has been charged without trial, and is therefore to be placed under royal protection."

The Cardinal nodded to the executioner.

The stool the woman stood on was kicked away.

The crowd cheered.

The woman's eyes bulged. She kicked and danced. Her face turned red, and then purple. The blood vessels in her eyes ruptured. Foam bubbled at her lips.

I could hardly think. All I could do was stare as she continued to wiggle like a worm speared on the end of a hook.

And listen to the crowd cheer.

The Doctor took my shoulder and began steering me back through the crowd. I went willingly, my heart full of anger and grief.

 _Charged without trial_ , the young man had said. In other words, innocent.

My anger boiled into blind hatred. I wanted to vomit. To scream. To plunge my knife into the nearest bastard and watch them wriggle and drown in their own blood.

Except I didn't. I walked on, not bothering to look back. Completely ready to leave this world and leave its people to deal with the chronomite on their own. It could eat as many of them as it wanted, for all I cared.

But when the Doctor risked a glance back and stopped in his tracks, I couldn't help but turn back around.

The woman was nearly gone. The only movement from her was the minute twitches in her feet and fingers as her brain expired. But that wasn't what everyone, including myself and the Doctor, was looking at.

The archway had come to life. Thin blue bolt of electricity zinged up and down the metal pillars. The hanged woman was bathed in light.

"The matrix is active," the Doctor growled. "That's not supposed to happen."

Despite being beyond consciousness, far more dead than alive, the woman's face twisted. It was the same expression worn by the statues in the courtyard. Fear.

Her fear lasted longer than her brain did. The expression stayed on her face after she otherwise stopped moving. It only vanished entirely when the archway went dark.

As soon as the computer terminal went dormant, the Doctor and I exchanged a grim look. I stamped down my feelings and locked them away tightly. There wasn't time to wallow.

Something was wrong, and we had a job to do. Team TARDIS.

The Doctor and I.

The Doctor resumed pressing me through the crowd. Before I knew it, we were halfway back down the mountain, well away from anyone else. But the Cathedral still loomed much to close for my liking.

The Doctor spun me around to face him. He stared into my eyes seriously, hands firmly on my shoulders. "You okay?"

I blinked, trying to process my thoughts and put them in some kind of order. "Yeah. You?"

The Doctor nodded, jumping straight to business. "There's a lot going on here. Something's wrong with the matrix, it's not supposed to do that. You said you sensed a fissure earlier. Do you think that's got something to do with it?"

"Maybe," I mused. "There's a fissure and a chronomite here. I think the fissure is just a fissure, but the chronomite…" I shook my head to clear it. "Something's wrong with it."

"Wrong how?"

I shrugged. "Can't explain it. But the fissure is definitely in the old ship. Do you think that might make it do… whatever it did?"

"Not sure." The Doctor shoves his hands in his pockets and stared up at the silver egg-shaped structure. "But best leave it for now. I want to know more about what we're up against first. And like I said before, stay in this dimension. If someone here sees you reappear ..."

He didn't need to finish the sentence.

"I'll be careful," I promised, thinking about all the times I'd said that, and then wasn't.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	24. The Nightmare Paradigm - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until this is caught up with what I already have written.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: 
> 
> DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACK, FEAR OF ABANDONMENT, FEELINGS OF WORTHLESSNESS, LANGUAGE, MILD VIOLENCE

* * *

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_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Twenty Four: The Nightmare Paradigm** _

_**Part Two** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The duke's mansion was even more impressive up close. The Doctor and I strolled up the looping drive of cobblestone made smooth by decades of use. The air was sweet, lightly perfumed by rows upon rows of flowers that grew in all shapes and colors, each individual plant neatly trimmed to fit with its neighbor like pieces to a grand puzzle - all without looking intentional.

I remarked on the quality to the Doctor, who nodded.

"They take their horticulture seriously here," he said earnestly. "How else d'you think they get bananas to grow in this climate?"

The house itself was chiseled into the mountain, the natural rock having been broken apart and repurposed as bricks. The grey stone melded elegantly into the background, the smooth contrast between it and the deep green foliage pleasing to the eye.

The architecture itself was somewhat Georgian in style: altogether boxy, white-rimmed windows - yet with grecian columns framing the main entrance. Leafy greens dripped from every window sill on the four-storied building, softening the hard lines and edges.

Surprisingly, there wasn't a guard at the gate. We walked straight through and up the steps precluding the main entrance unchallenged.

Ever confident, the Doctor gave the impressive oaken door a few sharp raps. The sound echoed through the halls within, marking them as cavernous and tiled, full of sleek surfaces and ornate wealth.

We waited. I could picture some kind of servant striding slowly across marbled floors, cool and unhurried, like the ones in movies and novels. I had only recently finished _Jane Eyre_ , having come across it while roaming the TARDIS library, so the associated imagery still burned fresh in my mind.

The thick wooden door creaked open a sliver, just enough for a thin, reedy man to peer out at us. He looked more or less like what you'd expect from a butler or valet: the back-end of middle-aged, dressed in a back and white suit with blue trimmings.

He peered at us imperiously through half-moon specs, full of the haughty disdain afforded to a man who was high-ranking among the servants in the household of a duke.

"I'm afraid the duke is not taking visits from the townsfolk today," he said nasally. "Visitations will resume their normal schedule after Moon-week. Good day."

"Hold up, mate!" The Doctor protested as the door swung closed.

The Doctor tried to stick his foot out to keep it from shutting, but the butler - who undoubtedly had experience with situations like this - was too quick. We were left outside, listening to the butler's smart shoes clipping on the tile as he strode away.

The Doctor scoffed. "Bit rude, innit?"

"Well, I mean, we could be anyone," I pointed out, gazing up and around the sides of the stone building.

"But we're not, are we?" The Doctor fumbled in his jacket for the psychic paper. "Should've done the credentials first thing."

"Probably. Do we try knocking again?"

He shrugged and knocked, louder and more insistent than before. We received no response. The Doctor tried again, with no avail. He scoffed, looking more than a little offended at being so blatantly ignored.

I opened my mouth to suggest heading back to town to ask around there, but closed it when a shiver passed down my spine.

The air suddenly felt sick. Tainted. It was the same sense of _wrongness_ as earlier, only much, much stronger. I gagged on bile. Staggered, dizzy with nausea.

Surprised, the Doctor reached out to support me before I could topple over. "Buff?"

I gripped his forearm, struggling to reorient, and then took off around the house in a dead sprint, tripping over stones and bushes in my haste.

The Doctor shouted after me, but I paid no mind. I turned the corner and dashed along the side of the house, headed for the back.

As I noted before, the house was partially built into the mountain. Now closer, I could see that the seam between mountain and house was only about eight feet tall. Higher than that, the ground curved away from the building, suggesting a section had been carved out of the mountain to separate it from the back of the house.

I barely slowed as I reached the point where the house met the mountain side, taking a running leap and snagging onto the top of the seam. With a considerable amount of scrabbling I was able to haul myself up and over before tumbling awkwardly down the other side, crushing a flowering bush in the process.

In another situation, I might have been embarrassed. But the people on the other side of the disguised wall had more important things to worry about than my bizarre entrance and lack of grace.

Staggering to my feet, I found myself in a small, secret garden, complete with an elegant stone patio and matching fountain. Two men - one of whom was bleeding from his shoulder - cowered behind a set of toppled chairs while a maid crouched under the table.

The Chronomite I had sensed earlier stalked across the patio. It was bigger than most of the others I'd encountered, it's extra set of arms spread wide to either side to make it appear as large as possible and gnashing its curved fangs.

I knew enough about animal behavior to recognize a threat display when I saw one, but despite all my experience with Chronomites, I'd never seen one act like this. Usually they were too straightforward and impulsive to bother.

"Hey!" I shouted, dragging out the knife from my bag. " _Me_. Not them!"

The Chronomite whirled around. Normally, simply diverting its attention would've been enough to make it forget about it's original quarry, but this one only snarled in my general direction and threw itself towards the bleeding man, claws raised for a killing blow.

"No!"

Made reckless by desperation, I threw myself forward. My blade buried deep in the side of the creature's neck, punching past the leathery exoskeleton and into the soft meat beneath.

I couldn't do any real damage to it outside of the Otherside, but the Chronomite screeched in pain and rage. It turned on me with a roar, lashing out in self-defense. I danced out of the way with practiced ease, expecting it to continue in it's assault.

It didn't. The Chronomite suddenly wheeled away, screeching, directly into the carved-out mountainside. The air shivered as it slipped away.

That's when I saw the strings. Though maybe 'saw' isn't the right word, but 'felt' isn't either. Either way, threads of energy vibrated through the dimensions, connected to the back of the retreating Chronomite.

Bewildered, I spun around, searching for the other end of the tethers. I zeroed in on one of the men, the one that wasn't bleeding. He had made his way back to his feet, but stumbled backwards as I thoughtlessly stomped forward to glare up at him with narrowed eyes.

"What the fuck did you to it?" I demanded, fearless with adrenaline.

"I … I don't — "The man's eyes darted from my face to the knife I still held, which was dark and dripping with the Chronomite's blood.

An arm settled across my shoulders. The Doctor squeezed me into his side protectively.

"Bloody hell, Buff," he said, just the right amount of overly cheerful for me to catch the indirect warning behind the words. He picked a leaf from the bush I'd fallen into out of my hair. "You okay?"

I blinked up at him, took a deep breath to center myself, then nodded.

"Sorry to barge in," the Doctor said, not the least but apologetic. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on the man I'd just been threatening, face frozen with false friendliness. "But we heard the commotion. And lucky thing, too. Alright, mate?"

Now that the strings - whatever they were - were gone, I took a closer look at the man. He was somewhere in his mid-forties. His beard was dark and wirey, immaculately groomed into elaborate curls. He peered at me with pale eyes that glittered beadily in their sockets.

I couldn't place him immediately, but the fact that he was dressed entirely in dark red robes seemed familiar.

A flash of shock jolted me when I recognized him as the Cardinal. The guy that hanged the alleged 'witch'.

"You'd be wise to contain your woman, sir," the Cardinal snipped, composing himself quickly. He scrutinized me with narrowed eyes, but I caught the uncertainty and wariness flicking through them. "A proper lady wouldn't dare challenge such a… a monster from hell. She could've been killed."

" _I_ would've been the one killed. Show some respect," the other man snapped, picking himself off the ground while clutching his bleeding arm. A gash had been torn in his royal blue overcoat from shoulder to elbow, but he didn't seem particularly fazed by it. He looked at me with a kind look on his handsome face. "I thank you for your courage, madam. I am Duke Bast Delaney, and I am in your debt."

"Buffy Reid," I said with a polite dip of my head, "and this is the Doctor."

The Doctor smiled and gave a little wave, but didn't stop staring down the Cardinal. "Seems like you two have had a busy day, Cardinal - ?"

"Bancroft," the Cardinal said, puffing out his chest. "Cardinal Leopul Bancroft. And yes, it _is_ a busy day." He glared at me pointedly. "And will be busier still, it seems."

The Doctor leaned forward, catching the man's eye while subtly pushing me behind him. "How's that?"

"Yet another witch has been eliminated, yet the creature continues to plague us!" He gathered his blood-colored robes about him.

"It's almost as if it isn't controlled by a witch at all," the duke bit out sarcastically.

The Cardinal continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I had suspected someone in this household, but perhaps not. I must flush her out! Good day."

With that said, he swept out of the garden and back into the house. The butler that had shut us out earlier waited at the door, peering at us in pure befuddlement through the glass.

"Blimey, he's in a hurry," the Doctor mused before fixing the duke with a concerned look. "That looks nasty. We need to get it taken care of quick."

I nodded sympathetically, knowing Chronomite wounds better than anyone. "Those get infected easy."

"Cuthbert!" Duke Delaney addressed the butler. "See the Cardinal out and return with a medical kit. And tell the maid to prepare refreshments for our guests."

"Oh, we don't need - " I started to say, but was cut off by a wave of the duke's hand.

"Nonsense! Stress and injury are no excuse for poor hospitality. Go, Cuthbert."

Cuthbert bowed and bustled off. Delaney used his good arm to right one of the chairs and return it to its place by the table. The Doctor quickly snatched up the other two and set them straight. He also fetched the light blue tablecloth and spread it out before us.

"I'll never say no to a cuppa," the Doctor said cheerfully as he sat. "What about you, Buff?"

"Huh?" I felt like he was fishing for something, but I had no idea what it was. "Yeah, sure."

"No one will ever claim the Duke of Tamial Provence has lost his manners," Delaney added. His eyes flickered eagerly between the Doctor and I, his awareness of social niceties only just keeping his curiosity in check. "Our tea is some of the finest in the kingdom."

"Oh, yeah." The Doctor nodded with mock severity. "Had a nice cuppa the last time I was here. Mostly citrus, I think. Mind, _the best_ I ever had 'round here was up in Cressi Provence."

"I can't say I agree. That brand is much too sweet."

"Better than bitter fruit, though."

"Only it's not as good with lemon crumble."

I suppressed a sigh and laid my knife down on the tabletop, careful to keep from getting blood on the fine tablecloth, which was swirled with intricate designs; no doubt handmade and expensive.

They went on about tea for another five minutes, arguing back and forth, each trying to outdo the other in taste and understanding of associated etiquette. I had no idea why the Doctor was bothering with this kind of banter, only that it was extremely annoying. I needed to talk with him about the strings I'd seen, but couldn't do that until we'd gotten everything we needed from the duke. So what the fuck was he doing? Weren't we in a hurry?

"Can we just get to the point, please?" I finally snapped, having had more than enough. Both men turned to me with matching looks of surprise. "Fucking rich people chat. It's absolutely pointless. I just stabbed a monster, and that's what I want to talk about. It's what _we all_ want to talk about. So can we just - get - on - with - it?"

The Doctor shot me an apologetic look, to which I responded with a scowl.

"Yes, the beast," Delaney coughed awkwardly. "You seemed familiar with it."

"Somewhat," the Doctor said coolly, rummaging around under his chair for an embroidered silk napkin he'd glimpsed.

"Tell me then, good sir. Where are you from? Neither of you bear the style of this Provence, and I've not heard stories of the beast elsewhere."

The Doctor carefully relieved me of the blood-slicked blade and began to clean it with the napkin. I felt a flicker of remorse as the fine sky-blue silk was stained dark red; as the keen edge bit into the fibers, thoroughly ruining it. Neither man seemed to care, though, so I put it out of my mind and focused instead on the way the duke glared impatiently at the Doctor.

"Oh, just travelers," the Doctor said finally. He studied my knife for a moment longer, making sure it had been thoroughly polished before passing it back to me. I tucked back into my bag. "We've been around a bit. Seen a few things."

I kicked the Doctor's ankle under the table for continuing to beat about the bush. He winced and shot me a sour glance.

"Things such as the creature?" Delaney pressed.

The Doctor's eyes glinted warily. "Maybe."

Duke Delaney worked his jaw, no doubt biting back a frustrated remark. He remained diplomatic though, which I could respect. "Well, if you have _maybe_ encountered the creature before, _maybe_ the three of us could work out some kind of exchange. A trade of information, if you will."

The Doctor flashed his most winning smile with too many teeth and clapped his hands together decisively. "Love an interrogation, me. You start. Tell us about the monster. And the witches."

Delaney glared at the Time Lord. He wasn't overly fond of losing control of this kind of situation, but I noticed the resignation behind his eyes. He was tired. A lot of people - _his_ people - had died, and he was desperate.

"At the beginning of the harvest - "

The Doctor nudged me. "Abou' three months back."

" - a farm house was attacked. The whole family slaughtered. All except the eldest daughter. Neighbors saw the beast leaving the residence. And the bodies - " He shook his head sadly. " _Mangled_. Torn to shreds."

I frowned. The Doctor glanced at me to gauge my reaction.

"As the culprit was demonic in nature, the church was called to cleanse the space. Cardinal Bancroft declared the crime to be the actions of a witch. He ordered the daughter to be executed for consorting with unholy beings. No proper trial was held."

"And there've been others since?"

Delaney nodded wearily. "Fifteen people have been slain by the beast. Bancroft has 'identified' and executed seven alleged witches. Despite the eradication, the deaths continue."

"But you don't think witches are controlling the monster?" I inquired.

Delaney shook his head. "I don't believe in magic. Or witches. One of our philosophers once said that magic is simply science we have yet to reveal. I'm inclined to believe him."

I smiled at him warmly while the Doctor nodded his approval. "Well, I think you're a very enlightened man."

His handsome face brightened at the compliment, his soft hazel eyes lighting up with appreciation. "Thank you, madam. Despite what the church has told us - and I hold the church in the highest respect, believe me - our ancestors were scientists. They came from the stars, and I firmly believe our people should strive to return to their legacy, and not superstition."

The Doctor leaned forward, blue eyes alight with interest. "How d'you know that?"

Delaney lowered his voice, as if telling some great secret. "There are books, sacred ones that detail our past. Until recently, they were housed in Exterreri Cathedral. The Cardinal intended to have them burned, but I managed to save them."

"Why would he want to burn them?" I asked.

His eagerness was sullied by a flicker of shame."Because… well… because of me."

"What do you mean?"

A hard look settled into his eyes. "The Cardinal and I have… let's say… a troubled history."

"Oh?"

"It's a long story."

"Summarize."

Cuthbert finally came bustling back in. The butler eyed the Doctor and I warily as he set a tray bearing fresh tea and warm cookies on the table. He then produced a woven satchel from underneath his arm.

Delaney thanked him and helped himself to the stachel's contents, which proved to be bandages, wipes, and what appeared to be a glass bottle of alcohol/disinfectant.

"Need help with that?" The Doctor offered. " I actually _am_ a doctor."

"I'm grateful. But no. It isn't deep." Delaney pressed a cloth pad over the gashes and winced. "As for the Cardinal… well… let's say we have had… _disagreements_ … over the power the church should possess. Elsewhere, the royal court primarily controls the government. But here, it isn't so simple."

The Doctor nodded. "The Cathedral is the religion's most holy site. The people who live around it are proud."

"Precisely." Delaney grimaced as he dribbled alcohol over the wound. "I accuse him of overreach. He accuses me of heresy. I expressed interest in sharing the knowledge of the Forbidden Books - our history - with the public and he decided to burn them to keep me from them. Quite annoying, but our competition hadn't been much of a problem. Not much happens here. But now I find myself near helpless to enforce the law. The Cardinal has the support of the public."

"Could you not, like, arrest him? Report him to the crown or whatever?" I asked.

" _Theoretically_ , yes." Delaney unraveled the roll of bandages. "But the church employs a Holy Guard. They outnumber my men three to one. There would be a battle, and we would lose. Especially with the township demanding revenge for the deaths."

I stood and rounded the table. Delaney blinked at me with wide, befuddled eyes as I stopped at his shoulder and calmly held out my hand for the bandages, which he'd been struggling with.

The faint blush dusted across his cheeks, underscoring the freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose. I suppressed a small, satisfied smirk as he relinquished the roll. He _was_ quite handsome.

The Doctor scoffed as I worked, drawing our attention back to him. His look on his angular features was amicable, but the glare he fixed the duke with expressed nothing short of haughty disapproval.

"Could you not send for reinforcements?" The Doctor pressed. "King… what's his name? King Ramsey. He's known for his position on the separation of church and state. Surely he'd be more than happy to put a rouge Cardinal back in his place."

I tied off the bandage. The duke thanked me with a gentle smile. "... and yes, I _have_. I sent word to the Royal Court several weeks ago. But the Capital is a significant distance from here, and it will take time."

I squeezed the Doctor's shoulder as I brushed past him on the way back to my chair; a casual reminder that he was still my favorite person. He beamed and draped an arm across my shoulders when I had settled back in my seat.

Delaney studied us thoughtfully for a moment before narrowing his eyes.

"Now that I've revealed my information," the duke said sternly, "I expect the favor to be returned. Who are you, Doctor, and what do you know of this creature?"

"Like I said, travelers." The Doctor was drawing small, affectionate circles against my upper arm. "Usually."

"And you _are_ familiar with the beast?"

"Yeah. It's called a Chronomite. They feed on little tears in the fabric of reality. Not usually _too_ dangerous until people get in their way. They're parasites, not predators."

"Chronomites," Delaney echoed, baffled.

The Doctor smirked a little. "Yep. Buffy here is the expert, though. I'm just her chaperone." He turned his head to me. "You looked surprised when he mentioned how the people were killed."

I nodded. "Yeah. They don't usually kill like that. They don't usually go after people, but when they do, they…" I grimaced, displeased with how calloused I sounded. "...swallow them whole."

Duke Delaney stared at me, apparently trying to process both me and what I'd just told him.

I went on, suddenly a little self-conscious. "This one's acting weird, too. It's like it's sick. Or rabid, maybe… or even being controlled."

"The Cardinal," Delaney said suddenly, snapping out of his thoughts. "You said he'd done something to it."

"Yeah. I uh…" I glanced at the Doctor for confirmation. He nodded. "I saw these… I dunno… sort of string things. They were attached to the Chronomite, kind of like a puppet. And they led back to the Cardinal."

"Strings?" Delaney echoed. "I don't remember seeing anything like that."

The Doctor fixed him with a hard look, similar to the one reserved for the Cardinal. "You said you didn't believe in magic. That it's all just science."

"That I did."

"Well, this is some of that science. Looks like magic, but isn't." He squeezed my shoulder. "Buffy's special. She has this… machine, something like your ancestors might've used, and it lets her see things and go places that other people can't."

Delaney leaned forward curiously. "May I see this… machine?"

I looked to the Doctor again to make sure he approved, then fished out the chain from around my neck and tugged the medallion from where I'd hidden it in my shirt.

While Delaney leaned forward to examine it, the Doctor went on, "Strings. Have you seen anything like 'em before?"

"No. But that has to be what's messing with the Chronomite. It's being too specific. I don't think that it would kill a whole family except one. And just a minute ago, it should've gone for me when I got it's attention, but it seemed weirdly determined to get him."

The Doctor looked thoughtful. "Some kind of telepathic link, maybe. Though I don't know why you'd be able to sense one. Mind, I don't know how the Cardinal would be able to produce one, either."

"What about the thing you mentioned earlier?" I asked. "The… the… matrix thingy."

"Neuro-Interlink Matrix."

"Yeah, that. You said that it connects itself to people and uses them. Could it be something to do with that? It's definitely something the Cardinal would have access to. And if it was, like, malfunctioning or something…"

The Doctor frowned. "Maybe. Or… probably, actually. The way the Neuro-Interlink Matrix works…" He paused, undoubtedly trying to figure out how to explain in terms I'd understand. "It isn't limited to one dimension. It's… _heavier_ than most psychic communication. Suppose it's possible you'd be able to sense it."

I grinned, pleased. "Cool."

"Neuro… what?"

The Doctor and I both looked back to Delaney and simultaneously grimaced, both of us having forgotten he was there.

"Science," the Doctor said.

Delaney shook his head as if to clear it. "The way you both speak… it's… bizarre." He frowned. "You are not from here."

The Doctor smirked. "No, no we're not."

Delaney swallowed nervously, but there was no denying the excitement glittering in his eyes. "Then… where…?"

"You said your ancestors came from the stars," the Doctor said kindly. "So are we. Just a lot more recent. We only came for breakfast. _Fantastic_ banana crepes."

" _How?"_

"A spaceship," the Doctor said simply. "Like the one your lot arrived in." He turned and pointed in the direction of the Cathedral. The shining curve of the dome was just visible in the thin gap between the house and the mountain side. "A bit more subtle, though."

I snorted. "Kinda."

"That we — " He blinked owlishly, and I couldn't help but laugh a little. It was sweet, really, watching him react to the news of aliens and spaceships; that the answers he'd been looking for had been around him all along. "You know us?"

The Doctor's smile was wide and genuine. "Absolutely. The human race. Can't seem to get rid of ya."

"What are you, if not human?" He demanded. His eyes flashed to me. "You both _look_ like us."

"No, _you lot_ look like _me_ ," the Doctor scoffed. "And anyway, Buffy's human. She's just from Earth, where your species started."

" _Earth?_ " Delaney breathed. "I've heard reference to that. In the Forbidden Books."

"And these Forbidden Books, they're the ones you stole from the Cardinal?" The Doctor pressed, trying to get the conversation back on track. "Show me. There might be something in them that'll help us figure out what's happening."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

Delaney led us through the mansion. As I predicted, it was beautiful and ornate; black and white marble floors, elaborate paintings of scenery and people on horseback. The pearly white busts of men and women stared out from alcoves in the soft grey walls, brows furrowed with proud severity.

A handful of servants dressed in grey-blue bustled here and there. They ducked their heads as their master and his two strange guests cut through the main foyer and up the main staircase.

The duke showed us to his library. It was a nice, cushy room with a masculine touch; full of dark oak shelves and deep reds and greens. A wide wooden desk stood at the far side of the room, backed by large square windows that pale sunlight filtered through. A fireplace sat on the right, unlit. A low chestnut table surrounded on three sides by comfortable forest-green armchairs and by the fireplace on the fourth in preparation for a chilly winter's night.

Our host didn't stop here, but continued on to the far corner of the room, where I saw a small, inconspicuous door squashed between the last bookshelf and the far wall.

"I keep them in my private collection," he said by way of explanation, digging out a jangling keyring from his belt. "It's somewhat safer. I have the only key."

Delaney unlocked the door, opened it, and stood to the side so the Doctor could enter, but didn't go all the way in himself.

I stood beside Delaney and peered in over his shoulder. The "private collection" was housed in a room so tiny that literally only one person could fit in it at a time. A shelf lined each wall of the little rectangular room, floor to ceiling, decreasing the standing space to approximately three feet wide and six feet long.

The Doctor's broad shoulders brushed the shelves as he turned back to face us, causing the pages on one of the many withered, musty tomes to flutter. The smell of mold and dust tickled my sinuses. I fought the urge to sneeze.

"The back wall," Delaney directed, leaning in so that he blocked the only light, which came from the windows of the main room.

The Doctor waved him away. "I'll sort it. Get out of the light."

I backed away, content with leaving the Doctor to shuffle through the dusty books. He knew what he was looking for, and I didn't. Delaney went to his desk while I went to examine some of the books that didn't look like they would crumble away under my touch. I ran my finger down the spines, admiring the leather-bound covers.

I heard the chink of glass and looked up to see Delaney with a decanter and three glasses. He set the glasses down and filled two, leaving the Doctor's empty for when he finished his task. I took the glass offered to me and settled back in one of the arm chairs.

"What's Earth like?" Delaney inquired, perching himself in the chair next to mine, doing his hardest not to seem too eager.

I shrugged. "Not too different from here, I guess. People tend to come up with the same stuff and do the same things no matter where you are."

"Where did you live on Earth? Have you any family?"

"No family. But when I was on Earth, I stayed in a place called London. It's a city. But I've been living on the Doctor's ship for about a year and a half now."

"And he is your _chaperone_?"

I laughed. "Sort of, I guess."

"Then how would you describe your relationship?"

I refused to blush at the word _relationship_ , knowing full well that he wasn't implying what most people would be.

I took a sip of my drink to ensure my nerves stayed steady. Managed not to wince at the taste. "I'm his traveling companion. He wanders the universe, and sometimes needs help with all the trouble he gets into. That's where I come in."

"So… you work as his assistant?"

"Yeah, basically," I said. "I don't really think of it as a job, but you can put it that way."

"And when this… 'job' ends, will you go back to London?"

I stiffened.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

" _How long do you plan on travelling with the Doctor?" The man's question was innocent and more or less kindly meant. Despite knowing this, my blood froze, as I had been blindsided by the question._

_We were at a cocktail party in 2327. The host, who I was currently speaking with, was a rotund blue man bearing a mustache that had an uncanny resemblance to a caterpillar. He went by the name Milton Esq, and he was a very old friend of the Doctor._

_They went all the way back to the Time Lord's third body, and since the Doctor had made a point of stopping by at least once a regeneration. When the Doctor had decided to make a surprise visit with me in tow, Milton managed to prolong our stay by throwing a party in the Time Lord's honor._

_He was nice enough. A wealthy businessman and master chess player. He was easy to get along with, so long as you were willing to overlook the fact that he smelled like cheese and had a tendency to ramble. At 251 years of age, he was holding up pretty well, and he made sure that everyone knew it._

" _Until he gets bored of me, I guess." I said jokingly, but the thought of leaving the TARDIS settled like a rock in my gut._

_Milton chuckled and nodded sagely, his mustache rippling and causing his upper lip to flap. "That's how it goes, doesn't it?"_

_My mouth had gone dry. I took a sip of the ginger ale I'd been carrying, not being overly fond of alcohol. I smiled politely. "Guess so."_

" _I remember most of 'em that came before," he continued. "Pretty young lasses, an' a few handsome blokes, too! All bright young things… each sharp as a tack! They all were. Let's see, there was that cute little blonde…"_

_I nodded along. Listening as Milton described companions. I recognized Jo and Sarah Jane. He got Harry and Turlough confused._

_Would I be on that list one day? Just a passing figure to mention to whoever showed up next. Would he even remember my name?_

_My hands were tingling. I gripped my glass tighter, chasing the sensation of the cold in hopes of warding away the encroaching numbness._

" _Then there was this young woman… Leela, I think. Boy, did she know a thing or two about explosives…"_

" _Ace," I corrected. My heart was beating inexplicably rapidly, like I had been running. I swallowed the lump in my throat._

" _Pardon?"_

" _I think you mean Ace. She was good at blowing stuff up."_

_Milton's eyes brightened with recognition. "Yeah, that's right! Which one was Leela, then?"_

_I was fighting to not pant. My racing heart demanded more oxygen. Hyperventilating in public was not an option. All the words came out in a rush. "She liked hunting and fighting."_

_He nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, yes. I remember now. Dressed like a wild thing. Dear me, how my mind slips." He squinted at me quizzically. "What did you say your name was, again? I'd hate to forget. I'm getting on a bit. Everyone blurs together."_

" _Buffy," I said breathlessly. "Buffy Reid."_

 _I couldn't stay with him forever. I_ knew _that._

_So why is it so hard to breathe?_

_I excused myself and weaved my way through the crowd, forcing myself to make measured steps and not rush._

_He would leave me._

_I would be alone._

_It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to me, but it was the first time I actually understood it to be inevitable._

_I was going to be alone._

_A deep, inexplicable panic chilled me to the bone. Visceral, fight or flight. The Doctor didn't keep his companions around forever. They aged, and he didn't. I imagined it must be cruel, to him, to see his once-vivacious friends wither away while he stayed frozen. So he left them, returned them to their lives while he galavanted off with someone else. Someone young and fresh. Rinse. Repeat._

_I found an abandoned corner down an empty hallway. The sounds of the party were faint. My lungs were screaming. I finally allowed myself to take in a great gulp of air. My legs felt like jelly. I pressed my back against the wall._

_To him, his companions would be preserved like taxidermy, frozen in time and ready for another quick adventure - if he ever had half a mind to visit. Still young and alive for centuries. While sad to the companion, it wasn't all bad. They had lives to return to. Families. Careers. Houses and cars and friends._

_I had none of that. I was completely, entirely alone._

_Alone._

_Just the Doctor._

_He would leave me too, one day. I was human. I was aging, even though the vagaries of my early twenties made it difficult to tell. My face shape had changed a little since the first time I'd seen it in that hotel mirror. My cheekbones were sharper and my brow slightly more distinguished. Two and a half years of change. Slight, but visible all the same._

_What would happen in another five? Ten? How long would it be before he thought it was time for me to go?_

_What would I do then?_

_My breath came too fast, in quiet, shallow gasps. The distant sounds of the party were garbled as if I were underwater. My fingers and toes tingled with numbness. I couldn't see properly. Couldn't focus. My surroundings fuzzed and blurred as muddled shadows danced in and out of view._

_What did I have to go back to? To an empty flat in the middle of a city that was nearly as alien to me as the places we visited? No family? No friends? No career? And no degree to even help me get one? Hell, I didn't even have money of my own, just the stupid physic credit card._

_I was alone._

_Alone._

_My time in this universe before meeting the Doctor had been the worst fourteen months of my life. I had been so fucking lonely._

_But then I'd met my best friend, and I wasn't lonely anymore._

_I would be alone again._

_I couldn't do that every day._

_Couldn't._

_Can't._

_So fucking alone._

_**Worthless** _ _and_ _**alone** _ _._

_Something wrapped around my waist, drawing me in until I was held fast to something solid. The Doctor. It had to be. His voice reverberated through his chest, but I couldn't make out the words._

_I closed my eyes and focused on the Doctor's hand rubbing my back. Slow and rhythmic. Intentionally paced to encourage a resting heart rate. Up. Down. Up. Down. I struggled to time my breathing to it._

_I wasn't sure how long we stood like that. It felt like an eternity, but eventually, I felt myself start to calm. I curled my fingers into the fabric of his shirt, relishing each slow, shaky breath I was able to take._

_When I opened my eyes, my vision had mostly cleared, save for some fuzz at the edges. The Doctor's eyes appeared perfectly clear, though. Icy hue made richer by the deeper blue of his jumper; soft with worry._

" _Buff," the Doctor murmured, brushing a thumb across my cheek to wipe away the stray tears that had leaked out unbidden. "Tell me."_

" _Sorry. Stupid. M'sorry," I mumbled, suddenly unable to look him in the face. I turned away, cheeks hot with embarrassment. God, I_ was _stupid. I could put up with Chronomites and monsters and a ton of other stuff. But what really set me off? A normal life. I shook my head. What kind of - "Stupid."_

" _Oi," he growled softly, protectively tucking me back against him. "None of that. Let me help."_

 **I'll be alone** _, I wanted to say._ **I can't be alone again. Please don't leave me.**

_But I didn't. It was too much to ask. Instead I rested my head on his chest; curled my fingers into the leather of his jacket. The double beat of his twin hearts reverberated through my mind, and I focused on committing it to memory in preparation for the days when I wouldn't be able to hear it._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

  
"Eh. Maybe." I waved my hand dismissively. "Like I said, I don't have any family there."

"What about work? Or perhaps a hobby to call you back?"

I downed the rest of my drink, relishing the way it burned down my throat. "Not really, no. But I'll find something to do, I guess. Traveling, doing the things I've been doing, it's all good experience. I can probably use it for something."

"Hunting monsters is considered good experience?" He scoffed incredulously. "Is that an Earth expectation?"

"Well… _no_ ," I laughed. "Not _really_."

Delaney shook his head in bemusement. "You're an odd creature."

"Thanks."

"I say that as a compliment," he added quickly. "Our society could use more individuals with your traits." He cast me a sideways glance. "I was almost hoping I could convince you to stay."

I quirked an eyebrow - something that I could do in this body but couldn't in my last. " _Almost_?"

"Yes… well… I can't imagine you'd find life in this dreary old house very entertaining."

"Oh, so I'd be staying with you?" This time I couldn't stop the blush that spread across my cheeks. "And what would I be doing in your house, exactly?"

It was his turn to blush. It was cute. My heart beat a little faster.

He coughed nervously. "Assisting with… diplomatic… endeavors. Formal dinners. State visits. Legal representation."

"Assisting, huh?" I bit back a grin. "Have you been looking for someone to give you a hand with all that?"

"In moderation," he admitted, ducking his head shyly. "But I have yet to find someone that fits the appropriate requirements."

I nodded seriously. It was fun to think about. Fun to flirt. Fun to imagine myself as a wealthy duke's wife, gliding around marble floors; draped in fine silks with servants at my command.

It was just a passing fantasy, of course. I had no intention of staying behind, titles and riches be damned. I was no one's wife.

My slightly amused and dismissive train of thought suddenly became wistful as I found myself wondering if I ever would be.

Getting married wasn't exactly on my bucket list, nor had it ever been. But that wasn't to say that I didn't want to find someone with whom to spend my life. Unfortunately, life on the TARDIS didn't lend itself to forming a long-lasting relationship. Sure, you met a lot of phenomenal people - phenomenal, interesting, _available_ people - but never long enough for anything to develop.

It shouldn't have been frustrating, but it was. By my estimates, I was almost twenty-two. Which was young, _really_ young. But as young as twenty-two was, I had never actually been in a real relationship. Sure, a few people had come and gone. A few one night stands that happened in that terrible year before I met the Doctor, and the handful of people I'd snuck away with when the Doctor wasn't paying attention. But actually dating? Never.

Still, the attention was nice. In my old body - in my old universe - I'd never gotten any.

I was overtaken by a strange burst of dysmorphia, stronger than I'd felt in months. The duke wasn't the first to show interest in this body - this grey eyed, red-headed, elvish young woman. They liked _Buffy_. But were they attracted to me, or to Mirror Girl?

 _You are Buffy_ , I reminded myself. Whoever this body belonged to before, it was mine now.

Hopefully, they wouldn't ask for it back.

I was distracted by an irritated huff and glanced up to see the Doctor glaring at us from across the room.

"There's a time and a place," he grumped.

I snorted. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

The Doctor stomped forward and dumped an armful of dusty tomes out onto the table. Delaney winced at the rough treatment of his peoples' history, but the Doctor didn't seem to care.

"The original settlers documented the collapse of the matrix," he explained, flipping open one of the books and pointing to a page. I came around to peer over his shoulder, but the books weren't well preserved and couldn't make much out of the small, faded script. "There was a… a blockage of some sort. The engineers couldn't work it out, but power wasn't getting from one place to another, like there was a leak somewhere in the system."

"Could it have been the rift?" I asked. "I know there was one in the Cathedral."

"Probably. There's not much that could take out that kind of Matrix."

"If I fix the rift, will the Matrix start working again?"

"Dunno. I'd have to see what kind of damage is left." He flipped a few pages and studied whatever he found. "They managed to catalogue the problems pretty well. I think I should be able to repair the remaining damage."

"I don't understand," Delaney interjected. His brow furrowed as he tried to make out the words on the page the Doctor was currently pouring over. "What is this Matrix?"

"It's kind of like a mind," I tried to explain. "A machine mind. It works and thinks like our brains."

The Doctor nodded approvingly at my description. "Time was, this machine mind was a kind of bridge between the minds of your ancestors and the ship. But that bridge was broken by the rift. With the bridge gone, the society your ancestors built fell apart. War broke out. Now we're going to try and fix the bridge."

The duke blinked thoughtfully. He looked kind of confused, but seemed to get the gist of it. "But what about the monster? How does it fit into all of this?"

"The Chronomite showed up because the rift was there," I said. "That's where they feed."

"And the Cardinal?"

"I have a theory." The Doctor shut the book with a snap and moved to another. After a moment of flicking through it, he turned it so we could see a faded diagram of what resembled a metal wand. About the size of a short swagger stick, a few buttons dotted up the side, ending with what made me think of a marble jammed onto the end. "Recognize this, Duke Delaney?"

Delaney's eyes widened. "Yes! The Cardinal has one. And so do I. I took it when I took the books."

The Doctor perked up. "Let's see it, then."

"A moment."

Delaney hopped up in a very unduke-like manner and shot out of the room like a startled hare.

The Doctor snorted when he was out of the room. "You can do better."

I swatted his arm playfully. "Was the Hemovore better?"

The Doctor mock-winced and rubbed the place I'd hit. " _Marginally._ This one's a bit pretty."

"You're just jealous."

Ears reddening, he scoffed. "Oh? Who of?"

"Me, obviously." I flipped my hair dramatically. "You want the fancy-pants duke to yourself."

Delaney tripped back into the room, just barely managing to keep from dropping the long wooden box he carried.

The Doctor scrunched his nose. "Think I'll pass."

Delaney laid the box down gingerly on the table. It was old, I could see, but recently polished with wax so the wood shone. The lid slid away slowly, revealing a very old, somewhat mangled version of the wand-thing in the book.

The Doctor picked it up, either not noticing Delaney's dismay at having such a valuable artifact handled so flippantly or not caring. He turned it over in his hands. A fascinated smile touched his lips. "Fantastic."

"So what is it?" I inquired, leaning over his arm for a better look.

Apparently my leaning on him interfered with his examination. He shrugged me off, but then turned so I could see it better. "It's one of the command modules for the Matrix. See, while the Matrix telepathically connects from brain to brain - which makes the connection flexible - the connection between the main system and these are fixed. You can take these anywhere in the universe, an' you'd still be able to communicate with the main Matrix. Brilliant."

"The Cardinal has one. Is that how he's controlling the Chronomite?"

The Doctor nodded, face set in a serious expression. "From what I can make out, the Matrix can't connect with minds like it normally would. But these are still hardwired to it."

"The WiFi's down," I summarized, "so you plug your laptop directly into the modem."

The Time Lord's brooding expression melted away and he beamed; the sun peeking out between storm clouds. I preened, always pleased to make him happy. "Exactly. It'd make sense to be able to use it to direct the remaining system to influence other minds, especially one as simple as a Chronomite's. The Cardinal connects to the Matrix, tells the Chronomite what to do, the Matrix reaches out to encourage it to happen through the module."

"Would he be able to control people?" Delaney asked worriedly.

I was kind of proud of him. He clearly had no real grasp of what was going on, but was determined to help and doing the best he could to understand. Working with people from less-developed societies was always difficult. You could never properly explain to them what was happening, and there was almost nothing you could base even the most simplified explanations on. At least in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century, you could use sci-fi books and tv shows as a point of reference. Here, and on past Earth, there was nothing.

The Doctor pressed his lips into a thin line. "Shouldn't think so. The system's weak, an' human minds are a lot stronger than the Chronomite's."

"Worst case?" I pressed.

He took out his sonic and began scanning the module. "Low level psychic attack. Images, maybe. Feelings. Impulses. Nothing too serious. You might get a funny mood swing, but even someone that's not trained against psychic attacks should be able to resist any commands."

Delaney watched in befuddlement as the Doctor soniced the module, then flinched when the previously dormant rod suddenly sputtered to life.

"It was offline," the Doctor said, voice tinged with amusement. "Loose connection. It's fixed now, but we'll need the other to reboot the entire system once the rift is healed."

"So," I started, counting off on my fingers. "We've got to fix the rift. Get rid of the Chronomite. Get the other module. See what condition the Matrix is in. Fix it. Reboot it. Is that it?"

"More or less."

I poured myself another swallow from the decanter and downed it, pulling a face at the taste. "Well, those first two things are on me. So I should probably get started."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	25. The Nightmare Paradigm - Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until this is caught up with what I have written - which is only to chapter twenty eight! Enjoy the dailies while you still can!
> 
> WARNINGS: 
> 
> VIOLENCE - DESCRIPTION OF HANGING - DEATH(KINDA) - DESCRIPTION OF PTSD - LANGUAGE

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_**Chapter Twenty Five: The Nightmare Paradigm** _

_**Part Three** _

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Trying to help Delaney understand the things I did had been both hilarious and a pain.

The Doctor and I had decided that the safest thing to do to prevent me being mistaken for a witch was to use the mansion library as the safe point to enter and exit the Otherside. But before I could set off, we had to try and explain the Otherside to our host, and then reassure him that my disappearing act _was science_. Not magic. That I was definitely human and absolutely not a witch.

He seemed a little uncertain and just a tad bit unsteady after watching me come in and out a few times, but ultimately decided that whatever my abilities were, they were beyond him. But as long as they weren't malicious, he was on board with whatever it was the Doctor and I had planned.

Not that there was much of a plan, anyway. Basically, I just needed to get the rift sealed and take care of the Chronomite, which needed to be out of the way before confronting the Cardinal. Without his personal attack dog, the deaths would stop and we would be at significantly less personal risk.

I set out for the Cathedral just after sunset. It wasn't a long walk; about half a mile. Despite this, I found myself struggling to cover the distance. It made me realize that, after all my time working and fighting in the Otherside, I had never walked more than fifty yards in it at once.

The difference was baffling, and I made a mental note to ask the Doctor about it later. It was like walking in sand or deep snow; every step is a battle that you don't realize you're fighting until you're only halfway there and you feel like your legs are about to give up the ghost.

The road leading into the Cathedral gardens was even more eerie than in the normal dimension. Especially at night, objects seemed to blur surreally in the mist, taking on an ethereal glow. The twisted, agonized statues of fear and suffering looked a lot more like people in Blank-form than stone, and I found myself flinching away everytime a new one reared out of the darkness, having briefly mistaken it for a real person.

Not that a real person could hurt me here, anyway. The only things that could notice me, let alone cause me any harm were the Chronomites, and they weren't exactly subtle creatures.

Still, I keep my eyes down and away from the statues as I hurry up the steps and into the Cathedral.

Upon seeing the archway, I forgot all about the statues in favor of being disturbed by something else. Through the mist of the people that had been and would be in the room, hovering over the dangling ghosts of the people strung up beneath the Arch, was the rift.

Long and deep, the crack rippled across the archway. It sliced seamlessly through wires and steel, disrupting all kinds of connections. Though the faults were invisible to the naked eye, I was not quite classified as 'normal'. I could sense the way the electricity was siphoned away from its intended pathways. The psychic computer sputtered, telepathic connections choked by the rift.

I could feel it, I realized. I could feel it _screaming_.

The computer was alive.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, heartbroken by the agony that tainted and fluttered through the mist. "I'll fix it. I promise."

No time to lose, I set to work sealing the rift. Even though I was no expert on telepathic matrixes, I could tell that the Doctor would have a lot of work on his hands. As expected, the rift was interfering with the way the Matrix would usually connect with people. The Doctor had explained the way the Arch would usually function; how the Arch was basically the transmitter and receiver for the Matrix's mainframe.

While I worked, I pondered the issue presented by the Chronomite. I had no idea if the matter of it being under the Cardinal's influence would make it harder to kill or not. I assumed I _would_ have to kill it, even though I would much rather not. I really didn't like having to kill anything, even if it was just an extra dimensional fungus. If only I could find a way to shove it through the rift before closing it...

A wave of sickness washed over me, and I knew that my wish had been granted.

I was immediately on my feet, blade in hand. I faced the Chronomite fearlessly as it prowled through the arch, a snarl building from deep within its cavernous chest.

It hissed at me. I circled clockwise, watching closely as it turned its massive, leathery head, sure to keep its massive fangs between us.

The strings attached to the back of its skull vibrated, tugging savagely and sending tremors through the fog. The Chronomite shivered in response. It shook itself, clacked it's jaws, and charged.

I leapt to the side, sidestepping its attack with practiced ease. The creature skittered past, stumbling and scrabbling as it tried to turn its bulk back around.

Instinctively, I reached for the strands. The medallion burned against my skin. I took a thread in hand and snapped it clean in two.

The Chronomite half turned. I leapt away, ready to dodge another attempt.

But it didn't come. The Chronomite stood stock still, as if stunned. Then it shivered and slowly, as if made of mechanical parts, sank down into a crouch.

For a moment, all I could do was stare at it. I blinked once. Twice. Was this… some kind of trick? I wasn't sure they were capable of the thought processes required to come up with a trap.

"You… okay?" I asked it, inching forward cautiously.

A low rumble rose from it, halfway between a growl and a purr. I moved closer, but it didn't react, not even when I lifted a hand and laid it on its leathery flank. I stood there, half amazed and half horrified by my own daring as I ran my fingers down the creature's neck, coming to a stop at the junction of it's shoulder and it's extra set of arms.

It rumbled and shook its head. I realized what it wanted.

Slowly, in case the monster changed its mind or forgot that I was helping it, I took each extra dimensional string in hand and snapped them one by one. They burned beneath my fingers, each about the thickness of my thumb. I could feel the energy flowing through them. The intent. When I touched them I could practically hear the Cardinal's thoughts.

Cardinal Bancroft didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. I felt his confusion morph into desperation.

His voice hissed into my mind, _Witch!_

"Get fucked," I muttered.

The Cardinal's anger was quickly silenced as I snapped the final thread connecting him to his monstrous marionette.

I backed away from the Chronomite and watched as it realized it was finally free. It stood slowly, as if awakened from a deep sleep. It stretched and tested each of its six limbs. It's shoulders rolled. Joints cracked.

With an appreciative growl, the Chronomite turned its eyeless gaze to the half-sewn rift. I didn't even mind when the threads I had painstakingly worked into the jagged edges were snapped as the Chronomite crawled out of the universe and into the blank space beyond.

I smiled to myself, feeling oddly satisfied.

"Good luck, buddy."

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"So we just sit here, twiddling our thumbs, while she risks her life confronting that… that _thing?"_

The Doctor glared at the human from his place by the hearth. He had been hunched over the Forbidden books for the last hour, resigned to studying them while his friend was away. The only thing worse than being forced to wait for Buffy was being forced to wait with someone that _would not stop whining about it._

"I don't like it either," the Time Lord snapped. In fact, he _hated it_. Always had. The Doctor would have given anything to be at her side, to protect and help her during her expeditions to the place she had dubbed 'The Otherside'. But there wasn't much he could do about it, and to make up for it, he was determined to keep her as safe as he possibly could in the regular world. Which, at the moment, meant making sure she had a safe place to come back to. "She'll be fine. She usually is."

_Usually._

The Doctor swallowed hard, hiding it by pretending to read the book in front of him with doubled intensity. Images flashed through his head: blood streaking her pale skin, soaking into her clothes. Her terrified eyes rolling back into her head. The weight of her dangling in his arms. She had barely weighed anything at all. The Doctor might as well have been holding a doll. Except dolls didn't bleed.

She had only been injured in the Otherside a handful of times, but each occasion had been bad enough to put her life in the balance. She had recovered and moved on each time as if it had been nothing. But the Doctor never forgot. Images of her fear and pain followed him into his nightmares, each a stinging reminder of yet another instance where he'd failed to keep her safe.

"But what's the point of waiting?" Delaney said impatiently, pacing back and forth on the carpet. "Wouldn't it be quicker to fetch the other module while Miss Reid repairs the rift?"

The Doctor sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose, growing tired of this particular human. Buffy couldn't come back quick enough. He needed her as an intermediary between himself and the average apes. "We don't know if Buffy's taken care of the Chronomite yet. If she hasn't, we'd end up dead. We can't fight it without her."

The duke rounded his desk and flopped down in the chair behind it. Much to the Doctor's relief, he fell quiet, lost in his own thoughts.

Unfortunately, the silence didn't last.

"It concerns me that he still has the module-stick," Delaney admitted after a few minutes. "Such a man shouldn't have that kind of power. I dread to think what else he may do in the meantime."

"Once the Chronomite is gone, there won't be much he _can_ do," the Doctor pointed out. "Like I said, the Matrix is too weak to have much effect on people."

Delaney frowned, worry weighing on his brow like a brick. "Would he know that Buffy is sealing the rift?"

The Doctor shrugged."Don't see why he would."

"What about the monster? Would he sense if she were to confront or kill it?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"If he knows he is losing his grip, he'll become desperate. With his monster or without, he's a powerful, influential man. Who knows what he might do?"

The Doctor grunted in acknowledgment and flipped a page, forcing himself to ponder over the schematics of the Arch - otherwise known as the Telepathic Quantum Distributor.

"He's feeding it," the Doctor muttered, mostly to himself.

"What?"

"The Cardinal. He's feeding the Matrix," he said, louder for Delaney's benefit. Explaining things out loud helped him to work through his thoughts. Naturally, he'd prefer Buffy - a proper companion that could at least partially understand what he was saying - but the duke would have to do. "The Matrix… it needs to be connected to human minds. That's how it gains processing power, how it functions. But with the rift stunting it's transmission, it can't reach out for them on its own."

"So… the Cardinal…" Delaney blinked, confused. "Feeds it minds?"

"Yeah. Spoon feeds it, even. That's why he hangs people under the Arch. There, they're basically in physical contact with the Matrix. From there it can use proximity-based electrical nodes to reach out to the mind - bit of a botch job, mind you."

"Is that the… uh… blue lightning?"

A manic grin spread across the Doctor's face. Delaney found it unsettling to look at. "The _blue lightning_. That's the Matrix reaching out, tryin' to make contact. _Fantastic_. It figured that out all on its own. First rate problem solving, that is."

Delaney scowled. "If it's so _fantastic_ , why must the people it connects with be executed?"

The Doctor's smile fell away. He at least had the decency to look a little sheepish. "Like I said earlier, the Matrix is weak. It's trying to integrate human minds into it - that's what it was programmed to do. Only it's not strong enough to absorb a healthy human mind. But a scared, dying mind?"

"That, it can use," Delaney finished bitterly.

"Yeah." The Doctor shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. He cast Delaney a side-ways glance. "You alright?"

Delaney didn't answer right away. He sat quietly, collecting his thoughts. "What do you know of our religion, Doctor?"

"Just what I've seen."

"From the time we are children, we are told the story of a lonely god. He settled in our world alone, longing to make a connection with lesser beings. He wanted nothing more than to be loved, so when he created our people, he designed our lives so that we will live through both joys and sorrows. And then at the end, in our dying moments, he shows us our pains, our fears, our _nightmares_ , so that when we finally join with him, we go to him with open arms."

Delaney looked up, meeting the Doctor's eyes.

"I'm not religious, Doctor," he went on. "But if this story is based on a reality, then I understand the Cardinal's motives. He thinks he is giving the god - this Matrix - the people's minds. It's considered an honor to die within the Cathedral. To have the god show you your fears before joining with him."

He frowned down at his folded hands before continuing.

"But lately, that has fallen out of fashion. New offshoots of the religion have taken root. They say that the god will welcome you no matter where you die, and will allow you to bond with him even without reviewing your deepest fears. Bancroft has been one of the most vocal critics of this shift. It sickens me, to know that the Cardinal believes he is doing what is morally correct."

"I know," the Doctor said softly. "It's not easy to have everything you've been taught thrown back at you."

"But that's not excuse to _murder_ people to satisfy what you believe your god wants!"

"Yes. But I wasn't talking about the Cardinal," the Doctor corrected, surprisingly gentle. "I was talking about you."

Delaney stared at him, bewildered. "I'm not religious."

"Doesn't matter. You've been taught this stuff for as long as you can remember, right in the shadow of where the oldest, strictest forms of the religion began. An' today you've learned that the Cathedral is a spaceship, the old god is a malfunctioning machine, _and_ that aliens exist and walk among you." The Doctor gave him one of his rare, genuine smiles. "So give yourself some credit, Your Grace. You're doing _fantastic_."

Delaney smiled shyly, blushing at the unexpected compliment. He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a series of rapid-fire knocks to the library door.

Cuthbert bustled in without being told to do so, looking rather flushed, as if he'd just ran all the way up the stairs. The Doctor had half a mind to tell Delaney off about not locking the door. _Now_ the damn butler knew that Buffy was no longer in the Library.

Before he could complain, the butler blurted out the reason for his urugency. "Your Grace! A letter has just arrived from the High Palace!"

Delaney sprang to his feet, holding out his hand expectantly. "Thank you, Cuthbert. Give it here."

The duke waited for Cuthbert to exit the room before he cracked the wax seal. He took a moment to steel himself, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before unfolding the parchment. There were a few moments of tense silence before a broad grin broke out across Delaney's face.

"Good news?" The Doctor asked, one corner of his mouth twitching up in bemusement.

"I should say! The Royal Court has approved my request for aid. The King is sending an armed guard, as well as a team of Royal Inspectors."

"Fantastic," the Doctor said. "When?"

Delaney skimmed the letter and frowned. "First moon-day." He looked up at the Doctor. "Tomorrow."

The Doctor, not getting it, fixed him with a pleasantly confused look. "And?"

"The letter," Delaney explained. "How am I just receiving the letter the day before they arrive?"

"Ah, right. Mail doesn't travel fast here, does it? They would've sent it ages before they left home." Understanding washed across the Doctor's face. "It's been intercepted. Withheld."

"And by who else, but the Cardinal?"

"He didn't want you to know help was on the way. He's runnin' out of time," the Doctor muttered. "He's got till tomorrow. Maybe he was planning on using the Chronomite to convince the Royal Guard that there really was a problem. And if Buffy's gotten rid of it…"

"He has only one night left to seize power." Dread clouded the duke's handsome features.

As if summoned, Cuthbert rematerialized at the door. "Your Grace. Cardinal Bancroft and his men have been seen moving towards the town. They claim to have proof of another witch."

The Doctor sprung to his feet. "We can't let him arrest anyone else before the Royal Inspectors get here. It's probably the last chance he'll get to sacrifice someone to the Matrix. Come on."

Delaney didn't hesitate to scramble after the Doctor, who had darted out the door and down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"But what about Miss Reid?"

"She can handle herself," the Doctor insisted. "She's clever."

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Nothing else noteworthy happened during the time it took to finish sewing the rift. I used tiny, precise stitches, determined to heal the wound as cleanly as possible. A part of me had hoped that fixing the tear would be enough to ease the Matrix's pain. But I could still feel it writhing.

"The Doctor will have to do the rest," I murmured to it as I turned to leave. "Don't worry, it'll be over soon."

I hoped I wasn't lying. But I couldn't imagine that the Doctor would leave the Matrix as it was; he would fix it, or shut it down. Hopefully the former.

The walk back to the estate was as slow and exhausting as before. I reasoned that there was probably an easier way, but I would have to get the Doctor to read into it - all the books on the Otherside were exclusively in Circular Gallifreyan, which the TARDIS wouldn't translate for me.

I paused at the garden gate for a breather, solidifying the metal bars so I could lean against them. With the Chronomite gone, I wasn't as afraid of the weird, shimmering shapes that loomed in the Otherside. Especially now that I was out of the Cathedral garden.

I looked around. Not that the duke's garden was much to look at in this dimension. The flowers were nothing more than strange furls of mist. Translucent structures; vague impressions of plants. When I sniffed the air, I couldn't smell their sweet perfume. Just the icy tang of metal and dust that I'd come to associate with the Otherside.

Something flashed at the corner of my eye. It was small and bright. I turned. Blinked.

Something strange was happening down the mountain. Through the diaphanous trees, I could glimpse the town below. On the outskirts, something glowed and shimmered like a flashlight underwater.

I stared at it, transfixed.

What the hell was it?

I took a step towards it. Then another. I paused, looked guiltily back at the ghost of the mansion.

I had promised the Doctor that I wouldn't recross to the regular world outside of the Library, but I couldn't help but investigate. He couldn't get mad at me for looking around while within the safety of the Otherside, right? And anyway, if something weird _was_ going down, the Doctor was sure to already be at the heart of it.

Decision made, I scampered down the mountain.

Going down the mountain was significantly easier than walking between ridges. To my tired legs, it still felt like walking in sand, but at least now I had the advantage of gravity. Or at least the _illusion_ of gravity. Physics didn't exactly work the same way here.

Something else to ask the Doctor.

A few minutes later saw me panting at the bottom of the mountain, having done my level best to run the distance. I circled the town perimeter, skirting some of the outlier houses and walking straight through others.

The source of the light turned out to be a farmhouse a short distance from the rest, situated by the river that ran alongside the settlement. There was the main house, and then some kind of barn a short distance downstream.

 _Oh,_ I thought, somewhat ashamed at not realizing what it was earlier. _Fire_.

Both the house and barn were ablaze. Blank-figures dashed to and fro like specters on a final haunt. From the Otherside, the flames didn't seem to lick hungrily at the structure, but slowly leech across the sides like liquid. I couldn't see the fire, just the glow and the destruction it left in its wake.

From what I could tell, the townsfolk were doing their best to contain the blaze, but were fighting a losing battle. The house was all but consumed, but the fire had only taken over about half of the barn, slowly eating away at the roof.

Behind the presumed shelter of a large oak, I exited the Otherside. At once, I was hit by a wall of heat and noise. I staggered under the sheer force of the volume alone; people shouting, the flames roaring like a great beast.

No one paid me any mind as I slipped seamlessly through the small crowd, looking for either familiar faces or an opportunity to help. Even in the regular world - rendered unremarkable by chaos - I was invisible.

Going unnoticed turned out to be an advantage. I recognized a few of the trademark blood-red robes of the Holy Guard among the people pumping water from the river. But at the time, I didn't think of this as strange. Most of the town was helping, so why shouldn't a few of the church guard as well?

At the edge of the hustle, I caught sight of one of the familiar faces I'd been looking for. Delaney sat leaned against a wagon with two speckled grey draft horses fidgeting and stomping in their harnesses. They were fire horses pulling a medical wagon, and despite knowing they were trained to remain still and calm in situations like this, I gave them a wide berth as I ran to Delaney's side.

"What happened?" I demanded. He was injured. Nasty red blisters had spread on his hands and up the left side of his face. Blood trickled from his nose and temple, mixing with the soot that smeared across his features. "Are you okay?"

He had been staring off at nothing while a nurse gingerly bathed his burns, but looked up when I hurried over to crouch beside him.

"Miss Reid!" He waved the nurse away impatiently. She cast me a startled look, but picked up her skirts and vanished around the wagon to tend to the other injured. "Thank goodness you are unharmed."

"I wish I could say the same to you." I picked up the wash rag the nurse had left and continued dabbing at the cut on his head. "What the hell happened? Where's the Doctor?"

Delaney ground his teeth together angrily. "The Cardinal started this. It's his revenge for us undermining him."

"Why would he… what did he do?"

"The Doctor and I heard that Bancroft was on a witch hunt. We came to investigate. We arrived just in time to see his men finish dousing the place with fuel and setting it alight."

The flames were still growing. Time was running out.

"What happened to the Doctor?" I demanded.

"We heard cries from within the barn. There was a young girl tied up. We were trying to save her, but I was struck by a falling beam. The little girl and I were removed. I don't know what happened to the Doctor, but the Holy Guard claims that no one is inside the barn, and won't allow anyone in to look."

I stared wildly at the burning buildings. The house was all but lost, but it was spreading more slowly on the barn. "In the barn?"

"You can't go in there," he snapped, sensing my train of thought. "You'll burn."

"I can't feel the heat in the Otherside." There was just enough left of the structure that, if anyone were still inside, they still had a slim chance of escaping. "Trust me. I'll be okay. But I've got to check."

Delaney called after me as I slipped out of existence, but I didn't stay long enough to register what he said. After the heat and noise, the cool silence of the Otherside was a relief, like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day.

But I couldn't take the time to enjoy it. Work to be done. Always work.

Inside the barn, the supports were just beginning to crumble. The fire was starting to eat holes through the roof, having finished with the hay that had been stacked in neat bales in the back loft.

Without the hindrance of smoke and flame, the Blank-form was easy enough to spot. It crouched in a clear space surrounded by piles of debris, its knees drawn to its chest.

I threw myself back into the heat, crying, "Doctor!"

My voice was swallowed by the roar of the flames. Through them, I could just make out the Doctor's dark figure distorted by the fire's intensity. As I'd gathered from his Blank, he was sitting on the ground with his knees to his chest, hands clamped over his ears like he was trying to block out some horrible noise.

I leapt over a burning beam and darted to his side. Embers rained down around us, winking out over our heads like morning stars. Ashes collected in my hair and on the Doctor's shoulders, standing out like snow against the dark leather. I coughed as smoke flooded my lungs.

The Doctor noticed none of this. He was locked within his own mind, combating far worse horrors.

"Doctor! Doctor? Hey…" I knelt before him, resting my hands on his shoulders. The leather crinkled under my fingers. "Hey, baby. You're okay. I'm here."

He didn't respond. Panic gripped me, but I swallowed it down. I took his face in my hands, stared deep into his brilliant blue eyes. Though, fogged over as they were, I knew he wasn't seeing me. Just the fire.

I couldn't carry him. Dragging him over burning rubble wasn't an option, either. The best I could do was guide him, but he needed to be at least somewhat coherent for that.

"I know you're scared," I pleaded. "But we're on Tamia. Remember? We're on Tamia, and in a barn that's on fire. This isn't Gallifrey. The Time War's over. But we've got to go _now_."

The Time War had left its mark on the Doctor. I'd seen glimpses of it before; seen its ugly roots encroaching into his nightmares, into his voice when he was scared and angry but didn't know why. I'd seen it cause him to freeze up before, but never quite like this. Usually, I could get at least some response from him, even if it was mechanical, or angry, or like he was still half a universe away.

This was something else. Or at least there was more to it.

The Doctor had a big, remarkable brain. But right now, his trauma ridden mind was vulnerable, weakened by his fear of uncontrollable fire.

 _Low level psychic attack,_ the Doctor had said. _Images, maybe. Feelings. Impulses._

Understanding struck me like a thunderbolt.

Returning to the Otherside confirmed my theory. As expected, long tendrils zinged through the air, connecting themselves to the base of the Doctor's skull.

I took one in hand and tried to break it as I had for the Chronomite. It bent, but refused to snap. I tried another, and another.

The Cardinal laughed somewhere in the edges of my consciousness. He'd made them stronger. My blood boiled.

Despite my generally quiet, anxious disposition, I'd always possessed quite the temper. When I was a kid, my grandma had once said that it would be my downfall.

As fate would have it, that prissy old raisin had been right.

When I ran out of the building, my mind was blissfully empty. I didn't need to be in the regular world to know where the Cardinal was. All I had to do was follow the convenient threads leading straight to his Blank-form.

He didn't see it coming. But how could he? I was just suddenly there. The first warning of my approach was my fist connecting with his nose.

I wasn't big. I wasn't strong. But I was desperate and _pissed_.

The Cardinal crumbled as I threw all ninety two pounds of me against him. The smug grin on his face was replaced by shock and fear. The terror in his beady little eyes when he saw me kneeling on his chest was only mildly satisfying.

"Where is it?" I seethed, digging through the interior pockets of his cloak without ceremony, chucking the random bits and pieces that I found in my quest for the rod-shaped module. " _Where the fuck is it?"_

My hand wrapped around the module. I tugged it free with a cry of satisfaction and stumbled away from the Cardinal. Not a moment to spare, I fumbled for my sonic pen and aimed it at the device.

The Matrix Command Module sparked as I shorted out most of the internal wiring. Hopefully just enough for it to be useless to the Cardinal, but fixable when in the Doctor's capable hands.

" _WITCH!"_

Something collided with my jaw, sending me sprawling. Ears ringing, I managed to flip onto my back to see one of the Holy Guards looming over me. His hand closed around the medallion, which had slipped out of my collar during my scuffle with the Cardinal.

The chain snapped and the medallion came away. The red jewel dimmed miserably as my connection to it broke.

The Cardinal's eyes flickered to the guard that held me. I turned just in time to see him heft the hilt of his sword and aim it at my head.

My world went white, and then black.

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My head throbbed. Everything was so, _so_ loud.

The noises around me mushed together into a dull roar that ebbed and flowed like the ocean. A low groan bubbled into my throat, but I couldn't hear it over the din.

I tried to force my eyes open, but shut them again quickly when the harsh, white light burned my irises. I kept them closed for another few moments, scrambling to collect my thoughts before trying again. My mind was moving at a snail's pace, slowly rebooting like a 90's desktop.

My chin lolled heavily against my chest. I figured I was upright. There was pressure on my arms. I was being supported; held standing by two people, one on each side, holding my arms with my hands bound behind my back.

I blinked my eyes open again, and the light hurt a little less. It took them a second to adjust, and then another for my brain to process what they saw. I stared dully out at the crowd, wincing at the way their collective voices echoed against the cathedral walls.

My legs floundered, trying to find purchase on the steel platform. The guards gripped me tighter, but I was helped to stand on my own beneath the arch. I looked around, increasingly frantic, scanning the room for familiar faces. The only one I found was that of Cardinal Bancroft, who turned back from where he'd been addressing the crowd.

He smirked triumphantly when his beady gaze fell on me, full of the grotesque pleasure that came with victory. My fear melted away, replaced by unbridled rage when I saw that he wore my medallion around his neck.

I lunged, straining against my captors.

"That doesn't belong to you, you sick fuck!" I snarled.

The Cardinal's smile faltered briefly. He was a coward at heart, but composed himself quickly.

"Silence the witch," he ordered the guards.

My hands were bound, but I was angry, scared, and desperate. A dangerous combination. One of the guards lifted the hand that wasn't busy holding me, intending to rebuke me with a slap.

Instinctively, I sank my teeth into his bicep. The cloth covering the guards' arms was thin, made to give the wearer free movement rather than protection. Blood gushed into my mouth; the metallic taste made me gag.

The guard howled in pain and blows rained down on my head and back, but I held on.

The bloodthirsty crowd roared at the entertainment. The witches never put up much fight.

Something hard hit my temple. My vision flashed white. I staggered to the ground, stunned.

Still dazed, I was dragged back to my feet. I stumbled clumsily in the grasp of my captors, giving what must have been a blood-filled smile at the sight of the guard I had bitten. He sat groaning on the floor a few meters away, clutching his bleeding arm.

I felt immense satisfaction. Human bites were arguably some of the worst: full of bacteria, guaranteed to get infected.

The brief smugness I felt faded as the guards dragged me back under the arch. Towards the elevated platform. Towards the noose.

I struggled. Refused to climb willingly onto the platform. Refused to stand. Sat cross-legged on the ground. Went completely limp. Laid face down on the floor. Deadweight. Kicked a guard in the nuts. Anything to stall. Anything to give the Doctor time to get here.

He _was_ coming, wasn't he? I scanned the crowd during my bids for time. I couldn't see him. He wasn't there. Where was he? He wouldn't leave me, would he? He had to be here. He _had_ to.

Horror chilled my heart. What if he hadn't made it out of the barn?

In that moment I realized that thought of his death scared me more than my own.

Finally, thoroughly beaten and bruised, I was forced onto the platform; held standing by two guards, limp and exhausted in their grasps. The noose was draped around my neck.

Everything was fuzzy. Everything hurt. My vision blurred. My left eye was swelling. There was a ringing in my ears that drowned out everything else. The thick rope itched at my throat.

The Doctor wasn't there.

I stared blankly out at the crowd, not hearing them baying for blood, not hearing the Cardinal finish his speech.

The only thing I heard was my name being screamed.

" _Buffy!"_

My deep blue eyes found the Doctor's ice blue ones. I saw his fear. His horror.

At least he was still alive. I couldn't help but be relieved.

The guards let go. The lever clinked. The stand fell away.

The pressure on my throat was enormous. I gagged for breaths that wouldn't come. I imagined my eyes bulging like the woman that I had seen hanged. My feet involuntarily danced and scrabbled in thin air. Spittle dripped from my lips.

The crowd was silent, but I could see their mouths moving. I tried to find the Doctor again. Couldn't.

_At least he's alive._

I mentally screamed for help. I wanted to be home. I longed to be little again. My mom used to read to me before bed. I couldn't go to sleep without it. Every night I'd drift away with her voice soft in my ears.

I was dying, and I couldn't stand the fact that she'd never read to me again.

  
  


_Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night_

_Sailed off in a wooden shoe—_

_Sailed on a river of crystal light,_

_Onto a sea of dew..._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	26. The Nightmare Paradigm - Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until this is caught up with what I have written - which is only two more chapters...  
> Then ya’ll are gonna have to wait for my ridiculously random updating/writing schedule.
> 
> WARNINGS: 
> 
> GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS. DEATH. SEXUAL ASSAULT. CRUDE DESCRIPTIONS. ANXIETY AND FEELINGS OF WORTHLESSNESS.

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Twenty Six: The Nightmare Paradigm** _

_**Part Four** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Family gatherings were always painful.

_Always._

No matter how hard we all tried, dinner was always awkward. You and those obscure relatives that you generally tried to _forget_ were kin crammed in around the table together, tried to make civil conversation; except no one could quite agree exactly what _civil_ meant.

Somehow, despite your best efforts, you'd always end up sandwiched between that one great-aunt that's been a smoker for the last forty years and your cousin that doesn't know how to chew with his mouth closed.

 _Then_ , of course, someone would steer the conversation to poorly-considered political standings, and mom would cast warning glances at me from across the table.

Eat your food. Keep your mouth shut. _Don't start a fight._

Why it was _my_ responsibility to hold my tongue, I would never understand. _They_ started it. Their talk was hurting _me._ I was cramped. Angry. _Miserable._

The fact that everyone else at the table was _dead_ certainly didn't help.

Their flesh was long past the wet, maggot-ridden rot that usually filled my nightmares. It was dry. Weathered and shrunken to the bone. Near transparent. Tendons and sinew stretched and creaked beneath their skin, threatening to snap under the strain of marionetting their bones about without the support of muscle. They jerked their forks to their mouths like puppets, skin creaking like dry leather as the food went into their loose, lipless mouths.

 _Just sit and eat_ , I told myself. My heart scrabbled at my rib cage like a frightened mouse. I tried to reason with it. _Just get through it. It'll be over soon._

Where the company lacked, the food flourished. Everything on our plates was bright and colorful; the wonderful smells _almost_ covered that of death, which clung stubbornly to the air like stale perfume. Normally, the array of rolls, beans, potatoes, and meat would have my mouth watering, but my appetite was nowhere to be found.

My grandmother's jaw cracked and dropped off, landing in her jello salad. She didn't seem to notice. Her dark, crisp tongue wriggled around the empty space like a half-dried worm. Licked at the cracked gums surrounding the top row of teeth.

I wanted to be away from here. The door was only a few feet away. They couldn't stop me. I could be outside and deep in the safety of the woods before they even realized I had gone. So why didn't I?

I was frozen. One hand glued to my fork, the other locked around the napkin. My legs didn't work. _I don't want to be here!_

 _This way_ , a voice breathed, scarcely audible above the creak of half-mummified flesh. _This way._

I tried to turn my head to find the source. My neck was too stiff to move it. The voice echoed all around me, but was a long, long way away.

_This way._

The whisper wrapped itself around me like a warm breeze. I buried my mind in it, allowed it to melt the ice in my veins. I managed to drop the fork. The napkin.

_This way._

My great-aunt's thin leather skin sloughed away when my shoulder brushed her arm. I grit my teeth and stood anyway. My cousin's bobbled head lurched back to follow me, deflated eyes twitching in their sockets.

Dreamy slowness clung to my limbs like syrup, but I kept moving. The door was further away than I remembered.

_This way._

My mom tutted in disapproval, teeth rattling loose.

My hand curled around the doorknob.

My dad stood to follow me, knocking Geordie's arm out of socket as he lumbered around the table. I heaved on the door, frantic, yet somehow guilty. Should I really leave Charlie and Geordie alone with them? I wasn't sure I could, anyway. The door was so heavy.

_This way._

The door swung open. I didn't glance back. I loved them, but it was time to go.

The corridors of the TARDIS stretched before me. They were darker than I ever remembered, even more so than when I first arrived and they were abandoned, decorated by decades of neglect. They were empty. I was lost. There were no markers of any kind, no familiar rooms or doorways. Just a never ending twist of halls. Darkness creeped from the walls, sinking frozen fingers into my heart and claiming it as its own.

I was going to die here. I was certain of it, despite not knowing what would be the cause. I was alone, and no one was going to help me this time. I choked on the sobs that bubbled up from my chest, on blind despair.

_This way._

The voice was closer than before. My heart leapt. I started running, not sure if it was the right way or not. Maybe it didn't matter. I just had to keep moving, that's it. Just keep moving and…

Something small darted out from the shadows, directly under my feet. I wasn't able to stop.

_Crunch!_

I lifted my foot in dismay. The remains of little Geronimo the mouse stuck to my shoe like a massive wad of gum. A wail of grief and horror ripped from my throat. The poor thing had popped like a balloon. Tiny bones and a splatter of guts were all that was left.

_This way._

Poor baby. There was nothing I could do for him now. Crying, I tried to wipe off the clot of fur and gore from my shoe. He smeared.

_This way._

Frantic, I toed off my shoe and left it behind. Guilt weighed on my soul. It was an accident, but it was still my fault. I couldn't bear to stay and clean him up.

I ran on.

I ran on.

I ran straight into something worse than a nightmare.

A memory.

The military men looked up from their maps and diagrams expectantly when I strode back into the room. Their eyes flickered over my shoulder, looking for the Doctor. Inwardly, I quailed, but I fought with every morsel of strength in my tiny, 5'1'' body to keep it from showing.

"Where's the Doctor?"' The General demanded, watching with his beady eyes narrowed.

"He's busy," I said, keeping my tone emotionless and clipped.

"Busy?!" He closed the distance between us with two quick strides so that he towered over me. "What the hell could he _possibly_ be doing that's more important than this?"

They couldn't know what he was doing. They'd try to stop him. "That's his business."

"Business," he sneered. " _Business._ So what? He sends his doxy to settle things? To _make it up to me?_ " he chuckled, loud and cruel. "But lending me his toy ain't gonna settle the score. Shame, though. I'd bet you'd squeal like nothin' else. Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't have time to take up that offer."

"Stop laughing," I snapped. My skin crawled at his words, but I couldn't give up now. "You know damn well that's not what he meant. The Doctor told me what-"

He slapped me. Hard.

I stumbled back in shock, nursing my stinging cheek.

He'd _hit_ me.

I had gotten stronger over the months of travelling with the Doctor. Tougher. Emotionally and physically. I'd been hit before, of course, but this time it was different. I was alone. There was no Doctor to sweep in and fix it. I couldn't help the way my face crumpled as hot, angry tears streamed down my cheeks, nor could I stop the hysterical sob that tore from my lungs.

The General grinned. Triumphant. A few of his lackeys looked uncomfortable or sheepish, but others snickered.

I turned and stalked away, burning hot with shame. Out in the hallway, I struggled to center myself. I was torn. Go back into that room and face those horrible people? Or interrupt the Doctor and endure his disappointment?

The Doctor had been disappointed with me before. After he had lashed out when I initially refused to confront the Chronomite in China, he had made an effort to never vocalize it, but I could see it on his face. It made his eyebrows furrow and his eyes darken and go blank. It was the only thing worse than being laughed at like the General had. I had fought tooth and nail to never be on the receiving end of his disappointment, and yet here I was again.

Tears ran down my face, unchecked, and luckily, unseen. I was useless. I had only just started to convince the Doctor otherwise. But deep down, I was still a little girl. A little girl trying desperately to fill shoes that were much too big for her.

I was alone, and I didn't know what to do.

_Come to me._

The voice was so close now. It was whispered into my ear. My heart filled with hope. Maybe there was a third option, after all. I sprang to my feet and sprinted down the hall, away from the General and his crude laughter, away from the Doctor and his chagrin.

_This way._

_Come to me._

_Closer._

_Closer._

I was so caught up in the voice, in the promise of safety, that I didn't notice when my surroundings changed to the lower deck of a ship. Didn't notice them surrounding me, cutting off my escape until it was too late.

The pirates grasped at me. I shrieked when they pushed me to the ground. Their filthy hands groped my breasts, wandered between my legs and _squeezed_. I cried out for help. For the Doctor. For anyone. Hot breath clouded the air around my face. I choked on it, and then again as a hand closed around my throat.

_This way._

Then they were gone. I sat up, gasping for air. I rubbed my arms, trying to ward away the crawling sensation of being dirty, the one that dreams of the pirates always left behind.

_Closer._

I staggered to my feet. Turned. Screamed.

They were still here, but in pieces. Ching Shih had their heads hacked off for their crimes. They rolled around on the deck as the ship tilted in the waves. Blood stained the wood. Maggots dripped from their eyes. Teeth were bumped out of place and left behind like a trail of bread crumbs.

_Almost there._

I wasn't sure if they'd deserved it or not.

_Closer._

But either way, it was my fault.

_This way._

And it had been a lie, hadn't it? They hadn't actually… They were _going to_ , but they hadn't.

 _Be with me_.

I turned to find the voice again, sure that I was about to see the source. It was so close now that it seemed to come from within me.

A Chronomite reared before me. It slashed through my chest before I could react. I felt the pain. Felt my heart stop. Blood spurted from the gaping wound. I staggered back, gripping my chest. When I pulled my hands away, they were clean. The Chronomite and the wound were both gone.

_Together._

Glagig was pinned screaming to the ground, Kahpreench kneeling on his chest. With a knife of bone, he gouged out the anthropologist's eyes.

_Safe._

Glagig's head rolled away. Maggots leaked from his eye sockets. From his mouth.

_Be with me._

A head was jammed on a spike.

_This way._

It belonged to the Doctor.

_Be with me._

Blue eyes fogged over in death.

_Be with me._

A Chronomite swallowed Geordie whole.

_Be with me._

Charlie was ripped to bits.

_Be with me._

"STOP!" I begged, clamping my hands over my ears and screwing my eyes shut, trying to block it all out. The din only grew louder. Horrible images flashed faster before my eyes. I shuddered with sobs, unable to take a moment more. "Stop it stop it _stop it!"_

All at once, it all stopped. My ears popped. Silence had fallen so heavily that it was almost as painful as the noise. It took all my strength to pry my hands away from my head and open my eyes.

I was somewhere new, now; somewhere I had never been before. It was a dark, empty place. Quiet, so quiet. There was only the sound of my breathing, thin and quick. My heart wavered feebly in my ears. Slow. Much too slow. Each beat threatened to be the last. A thick, heavy fog swirled around my feet, bleached white and glowing.

Save for the dark void surrounding me, a beautiful, pure light poured softly ahead. It was as warm as sunlight, more mysterious than that of the moon. It called to me. I felt it reach out, take my hands, and start to bundle me within its embrace. I was so relieved; I had been so frightened, so alone, that I couldn't help but sob for joy. I could be safe now. I could rest.

_Buffy!_

A familiar voice shattered the peace that I had been filled with. It was different than the one that had been luring me through the hellscape, and probably the only one that could call me back through it.

 _Come back to me._ The Doctor's voice was laden with pain and desperation. _Don't leave. Stay with me._

I turned away from the light and gazed into the darkness, looking for him.

_Come back to me, Buff. Please. Please don't go._

The light tried to pull me back into it, but my mind was made up. I trusted the Doctor implicitly, and if he said I needed to come back, I would. Without thought or regret, I plunged back into the night.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

**~0~0~0~**   
  


There was darkness. Inky. Eternal. It went on forever.

Sounds. Garbled voices. Anger. Shock. Panic. Somehow, I didn't feel bothered by any of them. They sounded like a nuisance, like a fly buzzing round and round my head. I wanted to swat them away angrily, but couldn't seem to locate my arms.

I was being cradled. Held close in someone's lap. Their arms wrapped around me, clutching me to their chest. There was a pressure on my lips. My whole body tingled pleasantly. Numb and buzzing like a live wire.

I managed to force my eyes open a crack. Gold fingers of light streamed around lazily like living creatures, playful and carefree as ribbons caught in a gentle breeze. They danced around the Doctor's face, touching his eyes and illuminating them a glorious, electric blue. He held me close, brushed the hair from my face with a tenderness I'd never known anywhere else.

His nose brushed mine, holding my gaze. His breath caressed my cheeks, warm and real. He whispered to me, soft comforting little nothings spoken in a language I didn't understand. There was pain in his eyes. I tasted the salt from his tears.

"It's alright, now, Buff," he murmured, pressing his lips to my forehead. "You're safe. I've got you."

I tried to snuggle closer, but found that I couldn't move much besides leaning my head into his shoulder. He seemed to understand what I wanted, though, and held me tighter.

Sadness and loss gripped my heart, but I wasn't sure it was mine alone.

"It's so lonely," I rasped, my voice so weak and hoarse that I barely recognized it. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. "It's so fucking lonely."

"Hush," the Doctor murmured, tucking my head under his chin. I could feel his hearts beating in his throat. "Don't try to talk. I'll take care of it. You just rest."

There was still a dull pain around my throat, right underneath my chin where my head met my neck; where the rope had dug in and choked the life from me. Each breath was a struggle, but as the gold ribbons lapped across my head and neck, they came easier.

If I had been a little more coherent, I would've rebuked him for wasting his regeneration energy on me. Thanked him, then, for thinking I was worthy of it. He had never seemed more alien than he did in that moment. It was an awesome sight, truly. A Time Lord in all his glory, his futile attempts to blend in with humanity shrugged away like a second skin.

He was _beautiful_.

I wanted to tell him, then. The words were in my mind, all I had to do was conduct them to my mouth. Damn the timelines. Damn if he would never feel the same for me. I loved him, and I wanted him to know.

_I love you._

I sank away from consciousness with the words echoing through my dreams, never having once touched my lips.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	27. The Nightmare Paradigm - Part Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating daily until this is caught up with what I have written.... only one more chapter left until no more regular updates.
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence, mild PTSD, mild language, feelings of abandonment

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Twenty Seven: The Nightmare Paradigm** _

_**Part Five** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

For a long time, I flickered in and out of consciousness; brief moments of confused lucidity separated by long, rolling plains of dream. They were good dreams, at least, even if they were unexpected and bizarre. I wandered planets I had never visited; spoke in languages I didn't know; laughed until I cried with people I would never meet.

In waking moments, I blinked against warm light, shuffled around a bit in soft sheets and blankets. Someone would pet my hair. Stroke my cheek. Then I would fall back to sleep again.

When I finally woke up in entirety, it was in a room I didn't recognize. It wasn't in the TARDIS - no, the early morning sunlight filtering in through sheer curtains wasn't artificial. I was tucked snuggly into a large, comfy bed, wrapped in pristine silk sheets underneath a thick feather comforter.

I stared around the room blearily, cataloging each item in the space as my mind found the brainpower to analyze them. The walls were painted a pale, dusky blue with a white trim that - if you looked closely enough - had little sailboats carved into it. I smiled a little, finding them adorable. A wooden vanity sat on the wall opposite the bed, holding a variety of brushes and toiletries as well as a silver mirror the shape of a large, slightly squashed egg.

Movement flickered in my periphery. I glanced over to see the Doctor slumped in a chair by my head. He didn't seem to realize that I had woken up yet, and sat staring at the wall straight ahead of him, expression dark and unreadable. He was thumbing something small, turning it over and over in his hand. The object caught the sunlight as he rubbed it distractedly between his thumb and index finger like a worry stone, revealing it as glassy and blue.

Concerned, I reached out and rested my hand on his forearm. He jumped, very nearly dropping the object before it was swiftly tucked back into his jacket.

" _Buffy_." He immediately took up my hand in one of his, the other coming up to push the hair away from my face. I leaned into his touch, finding the weight of his hand familiar and warm. "How d'you feel?"

"Okay, I think." Everything was still a bit foggy, but nothing hurt, so that was a definite plus. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About two days."

"Two _days?"_ I whined. "What the hell did you let me sleep for two days for?"

He shrugged innocently. "Must've needed it."

I sat up, grunting against the stiffness in my muscles. I popped my neck and winced. "What happened?"

The Doctor leaned in and wrapped an arm around my back. "What do you remember?"

"I… uh…" I backtracked. Everything that had happened since repairing the rift was muddled and fading like a bad dream. "I was..." The words died on my lips, and I found that I couldn't make myself say it.

Sadness settled across the Doctor's face. His voice was soft and hoarse, "I'm sorry, Buffy. I'm _so_ _sorry_."

I shuddered, recalling how it felt to have rope crushing my throat with legs dangling and kicking of their own volition. My throat tightened and I suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

Leather creaked as the Doctor shifted closer and folded my hands in his. "Buff?"

Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I grit my teeth, angry at my own vulnerability. I was _fine_. It had been terrifying, but it was over now. I had been handled roughly before, and the rest was just a glorified bad dream.

Guilt clawed at my chest. The poor young woman they'd executed before me, she'd gone through the same thing I had. So had all the other victims of the Cardinal's mission.

I was lucky. I survived. I didn't have the right to cry.

I abruptly shrugged off the Doctor's touch and pushed the covers away, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. The sudden movement made my head swim. I overbalanced and my bare feet slapped ungracefully against the tile floor.

"Oi, easy," the Doctor protested as he steadied me, and then eased me back down on the edge of the bed. "You'll need some time to recover."

"I'm alright now, I think," I said firmly, "What happened after I, uh, blacked out?"

The Doctor frowned, the worry that weighed heavily on his brow shifted to something deeper. He reached out and carded his fingers through my hair.

"Delaney had sent for reinforcements ages back," he explained. "They got there at the last minute. Bancroft's in custody. He'll be put on trial."

" _Good_ ," I said emphatically. "And what about the Matrix?"

"I've been going over the schematics while you were out. Now that the rift's sealed, it shouldn't take long to fix. Couple hours, tops."

I nodded, nibbling pensively at my thumb nail, which had broken at some point during the last few days. "M'kay. The sooner the better."

"We were able to get you down, but your mind was still inside," he went on. "If you'd joined it, your mind would've been absorbed, and there's no way to get it back. I tried to go in after you, but I thought…" His teeth audibly ground together. "I thought I was too late."

The memory burned brightly. "I remember! I heard you. Right there at the end…"

I swallowed thickly, suddenly overcome with emotion. My chest flooded with warmth for the old Time Lord. Words couldn't even begin to cover it. I took both of his hands in mine and squeezed them as hard as I could, trying to convey the utter gratitude, awe, and affection I felt for him.

A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth, though I wasn't sure that he felt it. My smile faded.

"How are you?" I asked softly, reaching out to brush my thumb across his cheek.

Worryingly, his face went blank. "Fine. Why?"

"The… uh…" Getting the Doctor to talk about something he wasn't ready to discuss was like tiptoeing through a minefield. One wrong move, and he would either blow up or shut down, but I had to try. "The barn. I was worried about you."

Disappointingly, a too-wide smile cracked across his features; dismissive and a little condescending. "Get off it, then. We've got better things to do."

I met his eyes sadly. "Can't help it. I'm _always_ worried about you."

He leapt to his feet in a single bound, nearly knocking his chair over in the process, and offered me his hand. "Then don't. I'm always alright, sooner or later, at least. You know that."

I took his proffered hand and allowed him to pull me to my feet, where I stood waveringly for a moment while I waited for my balance to return. It was then that I noticed I had been changed out of my day clothes and into a soft linen shift. By the Doctor or by one of the household maids, I didn't know. Didn't particularly care, either. I'd long since given up on being shy about such things.

"Oh, and before I forget…" He tugged the medallion out of his jacket and dangled it by the chain in front of my face. "Weren't easy to get, mind. Bancroft tried to hide it, but when I saw that you didn't have it I knew that he was bound to have taken it."

I snatched it from him and immediately put it on. I didn't feel like myself without its cool weight pressing against my chest, holding me together. The very thought of someone else wearing it, especially someone like Cardinal Bancroft, made my skin crawl.

Another quick glance around the room revealed my bag to be tucked away on the vanity. I hurried over and began rooting through it, instinctively touching each of the objects I kept stored within and breathing a sigh of relief when I found each intact. Knife. The Psychic paper. Psychic credit card. Sonic pen. Phone.

"I'll leave you to it." I glanced up to see him already making for the door.

I found the bundle of clothes I kept stashed in the bag. "Where are you going?"

"The Cathedral." He slipped out but poked his head back around the door when I called him back.

"Now?"

"Like you said, the sooner the better."

I scrambled to dig out my shoes. "Well, yeah. But give me a minute. I'll come with you."

He shook his head. "Nah. Don't worry. You 'aven't eaten in two days. I'll tell the staff you're up."

"Well, we already waited this long," I protested, not entirely happy with the thought of dealing with all the rich people niceties without him. "Another ten minutes won't hurt."

"Rest. Eat. Anyway, Delaney wants to talk to you." His face twitched with faint distaste. "Good luck with that. See you later." He closed the door with a snap.

I scoffed disbelievingly to myself, tugging the shift over my head and clumsily folding it on the vanity. When he wanted to be alone - whether or not he _needed to be_ or _should be_ \- he would find a way to be alone.

"Be kind to yourself," I reminded him under my breath, hoping that even though he couldn't hear it, he would somehow sense it.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

"Miss Reid!" Delaney bounded around the corner - clearly having been waiting there for me to finish dressing and come out of my own accord - like a gangly colt that hadn't quite got the hang of its limbs yet. He stumbled to a halt a few steps before he reached me, and used the last five steps to regain his ducal composure as an afterthought. "I can't even begin to describe what a relief it is to see you up and about! After everything… I was certain that…"

"I'm fine now, thank you." I cut him off with a polite smile.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but in a way that was kindly meant. "You _are_ , aren't you? Look at that, there's not so much as a mark."

I allowed him to tip my chin up to get a better look at my neck. Where the skin should've been reddened, scared, and bruised it was clear and unblemished.

"Got lucky, I guess," I said, tipping my head away a little when I got tired of his hand.

He dropped the offending appendage and awkwardly shoved it into the pocket of his fine blue coat. "As I understand it, the Doctor used a technique from…" He paused to glance behind him, double checking that no one was in ear shot. "... from _his world_."

I couldn't help but smile a little. The Duke had grown on me over the last few days, and I would be sorry when I had to leave. "Yeah, I thought that was what he did. It's uhh… effective."

"Well, so long as you're familiar with the procedure," he said, looking a tad bit relieved. He then quickly checked himself and added, "Not that I doubted the Doctor's intentions. He clearly cares about you a great deal. He simply refused to leave your side while you were unwell. I tried to convince him to rest, but he would mutter something about humans and our obsession with sleep. Whatever that means."

"Yeah, he does that," I interrupted. "He told me that the Inspectors got here and arrested the Cardinal." I paused. "Did they see…?"

"We… the Royal Inspectors' Guard, that is… mostly managed to clear out the Cathedral before the Doctor treated you, but I'm afraid some of them saw."

"Is it gonna be a problem?"

He grinned sheepishly. "I was able to convince them that it was a side effect of being called back from the uhh… the Matrix."

I sighed with relief. "Good. The last thing we need is for the inspector people to think there actually _is_ a witchcraft problem."

"Ah. No, that would not be good." He smacked his forehead. "Oh, what am I doing? I'm supposed to be taking you down to breakfast, not tiring you out again."

He offered me his arm, which I took with a smile. "Not that I mind the talking part, but I _am_ hungry."

"Well that, Miss Reid, I am certain I can help with."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

"I told you to stay at the house."

I flopped down beside the Doctor, settling with my legs crossed. "No. You told me to eat. I ate."

He shot me a glare, which I returned. The Doctor was kneeling behind the Arch, evidently having found a panel that no one else had noticed. He sat in a mess of wires, picking apart the Matrix's innards.

"Got bored," I went on, struggling to ignore the heavy presence of the Arch. What had been an architectural quirk now loomed, mocking me with memories of the last time I'd walked beneath it. "Thought I'd come keep you company."

"You're supposed to be resting."

"I can rest and annoy you at the same time."

The Doctor heaved a long-suffering sigh. "A bloody menace, you are."

"I have irritating Time Lords down to a science." I shot him a smirk. "That's why you like me. And anyway, Delaney's low-key trying to convince me to marry him, so I kinda need to, you know, not give any wrong ideas."

"More'n low-key, I think."

"You're not wrong," I conceded. "I'm not kidding when I say that literally half the staff thinks I'm going to be lady of the house or some shit. At breakfast, you wouldn't believe the bowing and sucking up they were doing to me." I nudged him playfully with my foot. "So, you know, thanks for leaving me to the wolves of the aristocracy."

He waggled his eyebrows imperiously at his work. "Well, I've learned that if you don't get an uncomfortable amount of attention every now and then, you get clingy."

I scoffed in mock offense. "Clingy to who?"

" _Randomers_ , Buff."

"Oh? Like who?"

"I can't be bothered to remember them all." He tapped the side of his nose knowingly. "But mark my words, if he hadn't doted on you as much to begin with, then you'd already be engaged to Duke wotzhisface."

I squirmed over to press myself against his side, hugging one of his arms and resting my chin on his shoulder. "So it _is_ jealousy."

He huffed, a little more preoccupied by his sonic. "No, I just know that you'd bite off more 'n you can chew, then it'll be up to me to sneak you out before the wedding without causing an interplanetary civil war."

"It was _one time_."

"Twice," he corrected.

"Huh. _I_ did all the work on Defedil VI, thank you very much. If I recall correctly, you were stuck down a well."

He grimaced. "Then what about Frecal Prime?"

"How was I supposed to know drinking from the same cup was the same as accepting a proposal?"

"Who drinks after a random bloke they just met? That's bloody disgusting."

"You drink after me all the time."

"I know where you've been."

A different kind of warmth flooded me, the kind that made my heart flutter and was altogether embarrassing. I was suddenly hyper-aware of every place we touched. My leg against one of his. Tucked into his side, having claimed one of his arms and holding it captive against my chest.

I leaned back a bit, a little embarrassed, but couldn't bear to pull myself away altogether. His presence was heavy and comforting; just being around him soothed some deep part of me that had been left broken and empty for a long time.

God, I was so fucking _screwed_.

While harboring feelings for the Doctor wasn't a _bad_ thing, it certainly wasn't good. I couldn't help but feel a little happiness, though. The emotions themselves were good, even if they would ultimately end in bad ones.

Do I tell him?

Half dead in his arms, high on his regeneration energy, making him aware of my feelings had seemed like a good idea. Outside of delirium, I wasn't so sure.

I turned my head, chin still resting on his shoulder, and studied the side of his face. After a year and a half of companionship, I had most of his expressions catalogued - those he made while he worked were some of my favorites. I would observe him without him noticing, watch the expressions flicker, ebb, and flow and try to work out what he was thinking. Now, he was deep in thought, too deep for a mess of fused wires to be at its heart.

Honestly, I couldn't help but wonder if he already knew. He could read me like a book - had been able to for a long time. Sometimes I thought I could do the same to him, but now, looking into his endless ice blue eyes and hoping for love, I knew that he'd always be far too complex for me to ever even begin to properly decode.

And assuming he did know, what was it to him? Just a silly human girl with her silly human emotions; hopelessly in love with someone far more complex than she could ever hope to be. I wasn't the first of his companions to develop feelings for him, nor would I be the last. Undoubtedly, he'd come to expect such things of those he traveled with; which is to say, the act of someone falling in love with him wasn't at all unique.

But what we had between us now was special, or at least it was to me. I didn't want to ruin it, just as I didn't want to complicate future relationships with future companions; I could imagine that he wanted the same. If I told him, he'd have to respond one way or another, and either would ruin us as we knew it.

No. I would keep it to myself.

Resigned, but at peace with my internal turmoil, I pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder.

"Thanks for coming to get me," I murmured against the leather.

"Always," I felt his voice through his shoulder, rumbling, low, and so familiar that it ached. "Alright?"

Maybe it was the emotional turmoil of the last few days, but suddenly, tears were burning in my eyes. I tried to hide them against his jacket, but they overflowed, determined to be acknowledged after having been suppressed since I'd regained consciousness.

The wound left by this place was still fresh, and I knew that I would be feeling the effects of it for a long time to come. I could compartmentalize my time in the Matrix as a nightmare, but couldn't quite do the same to being hanged. Being stung up, choking and jerking like a worm on a hook would be added to my long, still growing list of circumstances that would follow me into my dreams. A little ironic, really, that I should take a trip to face my nightmares and come away with more.

At first, I hid my tears well enough. The Doctor was distracted, both by his own mind and by the task at hand. He could feel me, though, so when a few small, hiccuping breaths stuttered against him, he noticed.

" _Buffy_ ," he breathed, turning and loosening my grip on his arm. The bundle of wires he'd been painstakingly sorting were cast unceremoniously to the side and immediately forgotten. I was hauled into his lap and held tight against his chest. His fingers tangled in my hair as he tucked my head under his chin. "This is my fault. Should've been able to stop it… If I hadn't been so..."

The Doctor hushed me as I tried to babble an explanation or perhaps an apology, but I was too distraught to formulate the words, and those that did manage to get out were strangled by sobs, which now came freely and without restraint.

I was such an ugly crier. I hated it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," was the Doctor's mantra. He sounded strained, broken. He tried to hold me closer, tighter and tighter until it was almost painful, but I was content to be crushed; it was nice, really, like he was molding all my broken pieces back into place.

Slowly, I began to run out of tears. When they were gone, I was left trembling, feeling sad and empty. The Doctor sat quietly with me for a few minutes longer. Eventually, he sat back just enough to look into my face and settled his hands firmly on my shoulders. There were tear stains on his jumper and a serious, almost wrathful fire in his icy blue eyes.

"I am going to keep you safe, Buffy Reid," he swore, rendering me inert with the intensity of his gaze. "No matter what. No matter what it takes, I am going to keep you safe. I promise."

Still sniffling, I nodded slowly, trying to scrub away the dampness on my cheeks with minimal success. There was no point in reminding him that no one was ever truly safe, and that it was something he couldn't really promise.

Suddenly cold, I wound my arms tightly around his neck. He returned the embrace without question and held me like I would fade from him if he dared let go.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~  
  
** _

When we left the little world of Tamia, it was humming with life. The Matrix was _singing_.

"You'll have a hell of a job sorting this out," the Doctor commented to Delaney, who had followed us through town to the TARDIS. After all we'd told him, the Duke of Tamial Provence hadn't been about to let us leave without getting a peek at our spaceship.

"Yes, _quite_ ," Delaney admitted, looking completely overwhelmed but positively _thrilled_. He was, like the rest of the people on Tamia, now in contact with the Matrix. As a descendent of the original settlers, he could hear it singing even louder than I could, and its joy bled into the hearts and minds of the people. They were confused, of course, but any disorientation was soothed by a sense of harmony and interconnectedness. "But now I have the feeling that my people will be more ready to listen."

"You'll do brilliantly, mate." The Doctor clapped him on the back as we led him back into the tall grass situated at the bottom of the bowl of mountains. The town of Tamial was louder than it had been when we first landed. The people were out on the streets and their chatter drifted clearly out across the field. The fires on their houses burned brightly, doubling the smell of woodsmoke and food cooking. "Just spread the word and make sure everyone knows exactly what the Matrix is. No more gods and witches, if you can help it."

Delaney nodded seriously. "I think we've had our fill. Even the most violent of us are weary of the fear and death."

"Let's hope so." The Doctor shook his head doubtfully. "Humans. Sometimes I think you like it." He shook himself off and clapped his hands together. "But… maybe this time you lot will surprise me. Until then, things to do. Come on, Buff."

The Doctor vanished into the TARDIS without a second glance, but I lingered for a moment longer.

"No wonder I couldn't tempt you to stay," Delaney commented to me, indicating the TARDIS interior. "What's an estate when you have this world to call your own?"

"Oh, I don't know. It was a fun idea, at least." I smiled and stood on my toes to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. When I stepped back, he was blushing an alarming shade of red. "Look after yourself, though, okay?"

He coughed nervously, struggling to regain his composure. "Yes, well, I'll certainly try, Miss Reid. Just be certain that you do the same."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

__**~0~0~0~  
  
**

I was back in my room aboard the TARDIS, fresh from a shower and trying to convince my body to finally unwind and sleep. After about thirty minutes of tossing about and getting myself thoroughly tangled in the sheets, I was forced to accept the fact that it would be a while before I'd be able to rest. In fairness, I shouldn't have expected any different. Hibernating for two days on top of the residual anxiety from being in the Nightmare Matrix wasn't exactly a recipe for a good night's sleep - though crying had taken a lot out of me.

I got up and changed into comfortable day clothes - tennis shoes, leggings, and my favorite hoodie that was faded red and three sizes too big - and tied my hair up into a ponytail.

While I was still plodding around the room, I heard a tiny squeak and turned to see Geronimo peeking out from behind some books I'd left stacked on my desk.

An unexpected wave of relief passed over me to see him. Sometimes after a nightmare you're struck by the acute need to check on those who had been killed or hurt within the dream - just to make sure they're actually okay. And really, besides the Doctor, he was the only one I had to check on.

I went back to my bedside table and dug out a granola bar that I'd stashed in the drawer. I peeled back the wrapper and broke off a piece, which I then offered to my smallest friend.

Despite Geronimo's initial trepidation regarding his two giant housemates, the mouse no longer saw us as predators, especially since the Doctor had given up on trying to rehome him. And apparently, according to the Doctor, since Geronimo was a mouse from the future he was somewhat more evolved than the mice I was familiar with, meaning that not only would he live longer (a massive relief for me - normal mice only live about a year), but he was much more reasonable - a fact I was curtly reminded of every time I walked into the kitchen or library to find the hulking lump of a Time Lord deep in philosophical debate with a three inch mouse.

Geronimo's dark, surprisingly intelligent eyes sparkled in the warm light of the room. He skittered our across the desk, bold as brass, and stood up on his hind legs with his tiny hands outstretched. He took the granola without the slightest hesitation and immediately began nibbling on it.

"Hey, little guy," I murmured, reaching out a finger and gently brushing his furry little head. "You doing okay?"

Geronimo twittered and began cleaning his whiskers, which I took to mean 'same as always'. Despite the fact that he and the Doctor could actually understand each other, Geronimo seemed to enjoy spending time with me as well. Maybe it was because I usually shared my food with him - but really, what more can you expect from a mouse?

When he finished with his crumbs, I held out my palm for him to crawl onto and transferred him to my shoulder. He squirmed around a little, burrowing into my hair and under the excess fabric of the hood before settling down for a nap.

For the first time since seeing the young woman hanging under the Arch, I finally felt kind of happy; a little, at least. Or maybe just relaxed enough to be content. Either way, it was welcome, and I savored it as I left my room and wandered slowly through the TARDIS halls, trailing my fingers fondly along the metal walls.

Looking back, I would realize that the TARDIS must've known what was about to happen. The path to the console room was long and winding, but somehow lacking the TARDIS's usual teasing. She led me through the library, the pool, and a couple of the gardens with a certain gravity that had me slowly wandering the rows of bookshelves, running my fingers down the spines of books, and kneeling down to wistfully dip my hand into the pool water.

By the time I made it to the console room, my equanimity had devolved into a downright melancholia. I tried to squash it down, writing it off as the after effects of emotional exhaustion or a side effect of the TARDIS's funny mood. Though what she had to be upset about was beyond me.

I perked up a little when I rounded the console and saw the Doctor. He was kneeling beside the jumpseat, rummaging through a small bag. A fond smile twitched up the corners of my lips as I opened my mouth to ask him about a trip to get fries and maybe ice cream, but paused when I realized that the bag he was rifling through was _mine._

"It's not polite to go through a lady's things," I chastised, frowning at him bemusedly from over the controls.

The Doctor winced, but finished whatever he was doing and closed it back.

"Was looking for your sonic," he said, standing and going over to fiddle at the console distractedly.

I didn't doubt his intentions, but remained skeptical. "Why?"

He flicked a button to switch off the monitor. "I've got a software update for it."

"Oh, okay. Didn't know it needed updating," I mused. "But that makes sense, I guess. I don't even know who made and programmed it in the first place." I raised my eyebrows. "Did you find it?"

He turned and fixed me with a blank look. "Find what?"

"The sonic?"

The Doctor blinked. "Oh! Yeah." He indicated the bag with a jerk of his head. "Got it all sorted."

I watched him thoughtfully. At first he met my gaze unflinchingly, but began to fidget self-consciously after a few moments.

"What?"

"You're getting weird in your old age," I told him. "And creepy."

"Time Lord. I'm not old, thanks, " he huffed, straightening his jacket. "And we both know that I've always been a bit weird. But creepy?"

A knot in my chest loosened. I settled myself into the jump seat and set to strapping the bag to my leg. "I said what I said."

He leaned back against the console and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "How am I creepy?"

"Besides going through personal items without permission?" I squinted thoughtfully. " _Lurking_."

The Doctor huffed. "I don't _lurk_."

I grinned. "Yeah, you do.”

"When?"

"All the time!" I ticked off on my fingers. "In doorways, down corridors, around corners. Basically anywhere where you can eavesdrop without being noticed." I scowled. "Or at least where _you think_ no one can see you."

The Doctor scoffed in mock offense before returning his attention to the console. Instead of continuing to fiddle idly, he started the dematerialization sequence, purposefully entering coordinates with a kind of resoluteness. Curious, I got to my feet and went to check the monitor, only to find that everything on it was unhelpfully written in Gallifreyan.

Giving up, I followed the Doctor around the console as he piloted the TARDIS into the Vortex. After a few moments the room stopped heaving and settled into smoother space.

I looped my arms around the Doctor's middle, hugging him from behind and resting my cheek against his shoulder. "Where are we going?"

He kept his attention on the controls. "Just out."

Maybe a quick, simple trip would help set my mind straight. I hummed my assent. "M'kay. Just somewhere chill, okay? I'm still kinda tired."

He rested one of his hands on my own. I appreciated how only one of his hands was almost able to cover both of mine.

"Don't worry," he promised. "Completely safe."

We stayed like that for a few long minutes, just enjoying each other's company. To be honest, by the time the Doctor patted my hands to tell me it was time to let go so he could land, I had almost fallen asleep against him.

Blinking the doziness away, I slipped away and looked down at my sweatshirt . "Do I need to change?"

"No. Should be alright," he promised, somewhat distracted. The TARDIS was complaining a bit more than usual - not outright fussing or fighting, but grumbling just enough to let the Doctor know of her discontent. "Hush, you," the Doctor scolded his ship. He then glanced up at me and tossed his head over his shoulder. "Go on. I'm right behind you."

I didn't hesitate to trot across the metal grating to the door. Hopefully, wherever we were, there would be some good food to be found. I was hungry, but not for anything fancy. Something greasy sounded perfect; a good burger and fries with ice cream for dessert.

I crossed the threshold and out onto damp concrete. I sniffed the air, noting the heavy tang of car exhaust and liking my chances of finding a burger joint nearby. The TARDIS had landed in what appeared to be a parking lot, sided by graffitied apartment buildings. Sirens echoed faintly in the distance, muffled by heavy fog and other sounds made by urban nightlife. Muted city lights glowed dully, spreading across the clouds in muddy patches of orange and white.

I felt the Doctor's presence before I saw him. I turned back to see him leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. I had been joking before, but he really did have a tendency to lurk. I was about to inquire as to our whereabouts, but was stopped by the Time Lord's guarded expression.

The Doctor leaned forward, taking my face in his hands and tipping my chin up slightly so he could plant a tender, lingering kiss to my forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against my skin. His nose bumped against my brow.

Before I could ask what he was sorry for, he stepped backwards, back into the TARDIS, and closed the door, leaving me outside.

I stared at the door, puzzled, it wasn't until the engines began to heave that I understood. Cold horror splashed over me. It had been so long that I hadn't recognized it. London. This was London. This was the Powell Estate. He'd taken me back.

"Doctor!" I cried, throwing myself against the doors and pulling frantically at them. They didn't budge. I scrambled to find my key, but it was too late. The wood began to dissolve between my fingers. I kept trying. "No! _Doctor!"_

My heart was roaring in my ears, so loud that it covered the mocking howl of the engines as she bled away. It had been a long time since I'd seen the TARDIS dematerialize from the outside, but she seemed to linger a few seconds longer than usual. She probably meant it as an apology, but it just drew the moment out and into a particularly cruel brand of torture.

Then she was gone, taking the Doctor with her.

"Don't leave me!" I begged the empty space. "You can't just leave me like this! Come back. Please! _Please come back_."

I couldn't feel my legs. They gave out from under me and I fell hard to my knees. This wasn't real, I reasoned. It couldn't be. He wouldn't just _go_ , would he, at least without saying goodbye?

Geronimo, who had been asleep until now, was squeaking in agitation. His tiny claws scrabbling at my hair reminded me that the Doctor _had_ said goodbye, and that I was damn lucky to have gotten one at all.

A terrified and heartbroken sob tore from my throat as reality sank in, taking the last of my strength with it. I bowed forward with the weight of it, digging my fingers into my hair and pulling, further disturbing Geronimo - who squealed.

The Nightmare Paradigm had shown me some of my worst nightmares, all save for the one that frightened me the most. Maybe it had known, somehow, that it didn't need to. That it was coming anyway. No need to show me the same nightmare twice. Redundancy could be awfully boring.

I wished with all my might that my consciousness was still in the Paradigm, that this horrible moment was just a particularly cruel ploy from my imagination. It would pass soon, just as the others had.

But it didn't. The asphalt grit painfully into my palms. I scrubbed my knuckles against it until they bled. It hurt. This was real.

I was alone.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	28. Misadventures in Purgatory - Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last of the daily updates! All of the story that I already have written has completely migrated from ff.net to Ao3.
> 
> Ch 28; Misadventures in Purgatory - Part Two is currently being written, but I’ve recently started back at college and haven’t figured out a writing schedule yet while I’m readjusting to classes. Still, hoping to get it out before too long.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: 
> 
> Depression. Language. Feelings of Abandonment. Slight sexual references.

* * *

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Twenty Eight: Misadventures in Purgatory** _

_**Part One** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Bags of bird seed, frozen corn, and chicken nuggets splatted unceremoniously on the counter. It was an odd assortment to come away with after a mission to the corner grocery store, but I couldn't be bothered to care.

The clerk gave me an odd look. I wasn't surprised. I hadn't bothered to brush my hair before leaving and I couldn't remember the last time I'd bathed. The last time I had looked in the mirror, which was God knows when, my cheeks had lost their color and healthy plumpness. The shadows under my eyes caused the face that made so many people across time and space smitten look waxy and drawn, like a skull. Physically, I was back to square one. All of the weight and muscle I'd put on and maintained over the last three years had fallen away, so every time I looked at my reflection it wasn't me, but Mirror Girl who stared back at me.

I'd learned to avoid mirrors.

I paid with the psychic credit card and gathered the two bags.

My original body had the tendency to stress eat; this one was the exact opposite. Even looking at food made my gut twist when I was stressed or upset. So needless to say, the stuff from the grocery store wasn't really for me. The birdseed and corn were exclusively for Geronimo. The chicken nuggets were sort of for me, but getting them had been a sorry attempt at optimism. There were other things in my freezer, and they'd barely been touched. When I did eat, which wasn't often, it was usually delivery.

Although town was the last place I wanted to be, I didn't hurry home. After three months holed away in my flat, the motion and noise was overwhelming, but I found it to be a welcome distraction.

It was better not to think.

I sidestepped a woman pushing a stroller with shopping bags tied to the handles. The little kid inside couldn't be more than three. They peered up at me with curious brown eyes, and extended their little hand out to wave.

Once upon a time, I probably would've waved back. But that had been when I had the energy and charisma to talk to the mother. Parents could be suspicious about strangers interacting with their children; especially when they looked as frail and sickly as I did.

I put my head down and kept walking.

_**  
.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_I'm not sure how long I sat there, but it was long enough for my legs to start hurting and for the asphalt to leave indentions on my knees through the leggings. Geronimo had been squeaking in my ear, not quite as agitated as me, but much more confused._

_It took everything I had to force myself to stand, but I did. I wasn't certain about the date, but figured that the flat I'd lived in was still mine._

_To tell the truth, I knew_ _**exactly**_ _when I was; but I wasn't ready to admit that to myself yet._

_I climbed the stairs on autopilot, lost in a haze of shock and confusion. The door to the flat was locked. I had lost the key ages ago, but the lock was cheap and no match for a sonic pen._

_Cold, stale air smacked against my face. The flat was exactly as I left it. Dark. Empty. I'd rented it fully furnished, but those amenities were the only sign that it was a place intended to be lived in. A couch. A television. A fridge. A stove. A bed._

_This place had been my home for the better part of a year, but I was nowhere to be seen. It didn't have my books, my space-time souvenir collection, or my clothes._

_I placed Geronimo down on the kitchen counter. He stood on his back legs, making himself as tall as possible as he surveyed his new surroundings. It wasn't exactly a TARDIS with endless hidey-holes and places to explore, but it was all I had to offer him._

_I sank down into a chair at the kitchen table; it was the one with the wobbly leg. I'd forgotten about it. Memories of living here flooded me - the ones I'd suppressed for the sake of moving on. The wobbly chair leg. The light in the bathroom that flickered no matter how many times you changed the bulb. The weird musty smell when you turned on the heat._

_I hated this flat._

_My throat was tight. Needing something to do, I fell back on the procedure for when an adventure went wrong._

_I couldn't call this an adventure, but it_ _ **had**_ _gone very, very wrong indeed._

_Step One: identify potential dangers._

_I became unreasonably angry at how inapplicable that step was, but was able to move on._

_Step Two: check resources._

_Did I even have any clothes? I knew I could buy more, but the thought of shopping sounded bleak. My hands went to the bag still strapped to my thigh. I knew I kept an extra set of clothes and shoes stashed away. Maybe if I was lucky, I could make it a few days without having to..._

_That bastard._

_That motherfucking bastard._

_The bag was much fuller than I'd left it. Within minutes, the kitchen table was covered with my TARDIS possessions. Clothes. Shoes. Laptop. Earth money. Even food._

_The Doctor had packed for me._

_Hot tears of rage streamed down my cheeks. I'd never felt so stupid. So betrayed. 'Sonic update'. It had been so fucking obvious. Was I really that naive? Did I really think I was above TARDIS Rule One?_

_The Doctor lies._

_He'd packed for me. He'd abandoned me on the same night we met. He'd taken Rose instead._

' _Already got a human', my ass. And I had_ _ **believed**_ _that shit._

_I slid off the chair and into the floor. This time, I didn't try to hold back any tears. Curled up under the table, I sobbed as hard as I had the day I realized I would never see my family again. It had been the worst day of my life._

_In many ways, this hurt even more._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

The only thing that had saved me from being even worse off was Geronimo. I could overlook my needs, but I couldn't ignore his. He was the only friend I had, and I wasn't about to let him go hungry because my mind was in the gutter. I would've done anything for that tiny-ass mouse. He was the only one that could encourage me to get out of bed and into society, so long as it kept him safe and fed.

He was entirely aware of this, and was more than happy to play his role in the dynamic that formed over the past three months: I cared for him, protected him, saw to his needs; In return he kept me company and would shriek at me until I would (insert: bathe, eat, drink, get out of bed, etc). And believe me, he could be extremely insistent/annoying.

Like a lot of my time before I met the Doctor, I spent it alone. I didn't really talk to anyone unless I had to, and not because I was afraid or shy or whatever, but because I just didn't have the energy. It was like I'd had the wind knocked out of me - and no matter how long I spent with my head between my knees, I just couldn't catch my breath.

And I _did_ try. I really did. I went to the mall, to bars, to parks, to movie theaters; but no matter what, I always found myself shutting back down, unable to break through the haze.

I was depressed, and I knew it. I needed help, but didn't know where to look. I couldn't go to a therapist or psychiatrist, because then they'd try to get to the bottom of _why_ , which would land me in a lot more trouble than I was already in.

So I dealt with it. I slept. I pretended to eat. I slept. I tried to watch TV. I slept. Over and over again. Treading water; just hoping that I'd find my own way out eventually. The only company I kept was Geronimo and the handful of people I could slap on a smile for and say hello to in passing.

Then there was Mickey.

He flagged me down two days after I'd been left behind - the first time I tried to get my shit together and save myself from falling into a pit of despair. I don't know why I had been so surprised. He'd seen me with the Doctor during the Nestene Invasion. He knew I knew the Doctor.

Unfortunately for us both, being so blatantly reminded that the Doctor had left me and taken Rose had sliced through all the emotional barriers I'd built for myself like a hot knife through butter. I broke down mid-sentence, prompting Mickey to first try and help, but then realize that I needed to be left alone.

He was kind enough to leave me be for a few days, but it was clear that I'd be seeing a lot more of Mickey than I wanted. He was aware that I knew all sorts of things about the stuff he didn't. I became Mickey's source of information for all things alien, time travel, and most importantly: Rose.

" _How long is she gonna be away?"_

" _Where will they go?"_

" _Other planets? How is that possible?"_

" _What if she gets hurt?"_

" _What if the Doctor leaves her behind?"_

He asked me so many questions in the first week that I had been ready to tear his face off with my bare hands. Not to say I didn't appreciate Mickey. He was friendly, and in any other situation I would've been more than happy to oblige him, but I was confused, angry, and heartbroken - so when I finally snapped and told him to get the fuck out of my apartment, I thought I was being nice.

Since then, he'd been a little more considerate. Generally, he kept out of my way, limiting encounters to once or twice a week. Despite his flaws, he seemed to understand that I was going through something and was kind enough to help any way he could, going so far as bringing me dinner every once in a while.

But beyond that, I hardly ever interacted with anyone. Needless to say, I was surprised when my phone rang. No one ever called me.

" _Buffy?_ " The voice on the other end asked. " _Oh, thank God you picked up."_

"Mickey?" I answered, surprised. "When did you get my number?"

" _Nevermind that_ ," he said quickly. I was forced to assume that he'd gone through my phone for it the last time he stopped by. I bit back a scathing comment. He sounded upset, so I was willing to let it slide for now. " _I'm in trouble, Buff. They came by while I was at work an'-"_

"Alright, slow down." I massaged the bridge of my nose. "Where are you?"

" _Police station,"_ he babbled _. "They're holding me here. They say they have evidence, but how can they have evidence? I'm already in trouble at the shop as it is, an' if I'm not back tomorrow mornin' they're gonna fire me, Buffy._ _What am I supposed to tell them? I can't exactly say-"_

"Mickey," I said firmly. " _Breathe_." I heard him swallow hard on the other end and try to do as I said. After a moment, I continued.

"They don't have evidence of anything," I explained calmly. "They're holding you, not arresting you. It's a scare tactic. Just keep cool. You haven't done anything wrong."

" _Right, yeah. I knew that,"_ he said unconvincingly. " _But what do I do? I can't afford to lose my job."_

I heaved a sigh, sure I was going to regret my next words. "Sit tight. I'm on my way. I'll get everything cleared up."

" _What're you gonna tell them?"_

"Shut up," I warned. "I'll be there soon."

I hung up and threw myself back on the couch. Despite my promise of haste, I spent the next half hour blankly staring at the television and trying to straighten out my headspace.

I already knew which lie I would have to tell, and from there all the little details weren't hard to fabricate. It should be easy enough - but unfortunately, the best lie was the most personally inconvenient. And the most emotionally taxing.

I felt the looseness of my clothes, a constant reminder of how empty I was, inside and out. My time with the Doctor had turned me into an excellent liar and convincing actress, but now, sitting here with a new challenge laid at my feet, I wasn't sure I was up to it.

But if I were to be honest with myself, it would probably be good for me.

Slowly, painstakingly, I pushed myself to my feet and gathered my things, hoping to all the gods in the universe that I wouldn't regret it.

_**  
~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

A half-hour later saw me sitting at a table in an interrogation room. It was small, basic, and in desperate need of a mop and some bleach.

Thankfully, I was able to slip into character without much of a hitch; though it helped that the person I was playing was a simple alteration of myself.

"He was with me," I lied fluidly. It wasn't difficult, really. I'd told much bigger lies to much smarter people, but as I sat in a rickety metal chair across from two mid-rate policemen, I couldn't help but wish that I'd just stayed in bed.

The pale fluorescent lights were giving me a headache and the room was chillier than I would like. I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back in the chair, which creaked in protest.

The first officer (You couldn't pay me to remember their names) wrote something down on his notepad.

"And what were you doing on the night Miss Tyler disappeared?"

I turned an unimpressed eye on the second officer, the one who had spoken. Yes, this _was_ the best lie; the only one I could think of that filled in all of the gaps in Mickey's alibi. Personally, it was kind of insulting. But then again, who ever cared about what I wanted?

"I'll give you three guesses," I said scathingly.

He shifted uncomfortably. "For the record please, miss."

I intoned a sigh, only half faking the irritation in it. "I spent most of the afternoon in town, and then ran into Rose and Mickey at the pizza place. Rose said something about meeting up with a friend, and I'd already had a bit to drink, and Mickey offered to drive me home. We made it to my place sometime around 8:00 or 9:00. He left the next morning."

It was a solid lie. Easy to believe, especially if you wanted to; the police _definitely_ wanted to. The case had been cold for a while, and any excuse to cross out a suspect was readily accepted.

The officers nodded along.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Reid," the first said. "Now, if you don't mind, we've got a few more questions."

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~  
  
** _

The rest of the interrogation passed smoothly. The only rogue element was Mickey, but thankfully I was convincing enough for them to have lost interest in him. It only took a little verbal wheeling on my part to ensure that he was released immediately without being questioned again - saving me the trouble of compensating for his clueless blunders. Small mercies.

I waited for him in the front lobby. The little bit of energy I'd been able to dredge up for the interrogation had dissipated, leaving me feeling like a dried out husk. I couldn't wait to get back to my flat, turn on the tv, and go back to pretending that I didn't exist.

Finally, Mickey was led out into the lobby. He blinked at me, seemingly surprised to see me waiting for him, before scurrying across the worn tile to join me by the door.

"Man, am I glad to see you," he admitted, following me out into the cool night air. I breathed deep, drinking in the smell of car exhaust and damp and letting it lull my senses back into a haze. "What did you tell them?"

"I gave you an alibi," I said simply.

"Oh, that's great!" He shrugged on his jacket. "I didn't know what to tell 'em. I took Rose to visit that bloke about the Doctor, and then I got eaten by a trash bin. Couldn't say I left her then, though, cos they got witnesses saying we were together at the pizza place. They'd never believe that, though." He dug a beanie out of his jacket and shoved it on his head. "What'd you tell 'em?"

"That we were having sex."

Mickey tripped over his own feet.

" _What?_ " He sputtered. "Why - ? How does _that_ help?"

"Think about it," I explained dryly. "To them, you hadn't been telling the truth. So I had to come up with a reason why you'd be willing to lie about where you were. You feeling guilty about a drunken one night stand while your girlfriend went missing covers that pretty nicely. They bought it."

"Yeah, but…" he stammered, "but we _didn't_."

" _Really?"_ I growled sarcastically. "I thought we did, must've got my wires crossed." I scowled and shoved my hands in my pockets moodily. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I _am_ grateful," he said quickly. "I really am. But what about Rose? I don't want her thinking I was sleepin' around while she was away. I don't want my mates thinking that either."

"Tell them whatever you need to tell them. You were drunk. I initiated. Whatever." I rubbed my eyes tiredly before looking up to fix him with a warning look. "But don't _ever_ mention this to me again. And when Rose comes back, you're gonna set the record straight. With her. With Jackie. With the Doctor. Whatever. I won't have this following me around. If it does, I'll start telling everyone how _god awful_ you were and start coming up with all kinds of embarrassing sex-shit. Got it?"

A slightly panicked look settled across his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I got it. No problem there."

"Good."

We walked in silence for a while. The air smelled of rain, but I wasn't sure if it was just from the puddles left over from yesterday's shower or not. We were almost to the Powell Estate when Mickey piped up again.

"Aren't you worried?"

"About what?"

"Gettin' in trouble." He glanced from side to side, looking for the eavesdropping cops that were definitely not there. "You just straight up lied to them. You can get arrested for that sort of thing."

I shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Oh, so is that what you do with the Doctor, huh?" He tripped over a lip in the sidewalk, but managed not to fall. "Dashing about across the stars, lyin' to police and saying you slept with a murder suspect?" He realized too late that he'd brought the freshly-tabooed subject up again. His ears burned bright red.

I decided to be merciful and ignored the blunder. "Not always."

"About which one?"

"Last time I pretended to be an FBI agent."

He blinked rapidly. "And how did that end?"

I turned away and strolled towards my building, tossing the answer over my shoulder, "My girlfriend got shot."

Mickey's reply got lost in the echo of my footsteps as I entered the stairwell, but it didn't take much creativity to imagine what it had been.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~  
  
** _

Two weeks after I sacrificed my pride to help Mickey and nearly four months after Rose and I switched places, I was still struggling. Overall, I suppose you could say I was doing better; I was eating more and could go out in public and pretend to be a functioning member of society, even if it was extremely fake and I could keep it up for an hour at a time.

For every step forward there was another step back. Some days I actually felt kind of okay, other days I couldn't find it in me to get out of bed, let alone bathe or get something to eat.

Today was one of the latter.

It was sometime around late afternoon. I hadn't checked my phone in a while, but the angle of sunlight streaming through the bedroom window put it around 4:00 or 5:00. Geronimo had been squeaking at me on and off all day, going as far as to mountaineering up the side of the bed to bother me to my face.

He wasn't usually allowed on my bed, not because I was squeamish or worried about his mouse-germs, but because I was terrified of rolling over and squishing him. But since I was mostly awake, he was resigned to curling up on the other pillow to keep me company.

Despite my mental state, all was peaceful. Both my mouse friend and I had nearly drifted off before the calm atmosphere was shattered by a shrill voice.

"You in? Oh, bloody hell, when's the last time you aired this place out?"

Now, I wasn't hyper-vigilant about locking the door; I didn't have anything worth stealing and was far too used to monsters and aliens to harbor any real fear of burglars. But in this case, I was almost positive that I'd remembered to turn the lock on my way in.

I sat bolt upright, throwing off the covers and scooping Geronimo up to cradle him to my chest. He twittered nervously as I stalked out into the main room, unsure what to expect.

Jackie was pretty much the last person I expected to see standing in my living room, especially knowing that she must've picked the lock. With her hair pulled back by a pink scrunchie and her arms laden with plastic to-go bags, she looked as if she had every right to be here.

"There you are, sweetheart," she greeted when I plodded out of my room. "Have you been out of bed at all today? That's not healthy. You're gonna get bed sores."

All I could do was stare at her blearily while she started unpacking the white styrofoam boxes, talking all the way. My mind was sluggish from lack of use, but slowly rebooting as it chewed on the puzzle of why the hell she was in my apartment.

Jackie, seemingly unaware of my befuddlement, chatted absently about a guy she was seeing while rummaging the cabinets and drawers for plates and silverware.

"Jackie… what…?" I said when I finally found my voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Japanese," she said as if it explained everything. "Mickey said it's your favorite."

"You've been talking to Mickey?" That was news to me. "Since when? I thought you — "

She cut me off with an absentminded wave of her hand. "Yeah, but I didn't know everythin' then. What was I supposed to think? But that's all cleared up now, so no point in beating a dead horse."

I frowned. The police must've told her about the alibi I'd given Mickey. But that didn't explain what she wanted with me, especially since she thought I slept with her daughter's boyfriend.

"Yeah, okay. But what are you doing _here?"_

She set a plate down for me. "Thought we could have dinner. I haven't had Japanese in ages."

"Yeah, but…" I fumbled, shadowing her as she went to turn on the TV, presumably for background noise. "Why with me? I thought that... with… you know, _Mickey..._ that you wouldn't want anything to do with me."

She settled on a news station and returned to the table. I sat Geronimo down on the ground and made sure it made it safely to his favorite hiding place behind the couch.

Jackie sat down at the table. "Well, I wasn't happy about it at first. But we all make mistakes, you know. And you're hardly the first person to get drunk and sleep with someone else's boyfriend." She laughed a little. "Now, _I've_ done that."

"I… er… okay."

She looked up to where I still stood awkwardly. A shadow of doubt flickered across her face. "If you want me to go, that's alright. I just thought that… well, seein' you've not got any family, and well… with Rose…"

She trailed off. I nodded, finally understanding. The story I'd told everyone was that my parents had died in a car accident when I was eighteen. They'd left me enough money to get by, but I didn't have any other family to speak of. Now that Rose was missing, she was alone too.

I'd lost my mother, she'd lost her daughter. We both had a vacancy that we longed to have filled.

I sat down and started picking at my food. Jackie, subtly relieved, did the same. My heart contorted painfully as I listened to her talk about trivial things, reminding me how much I missed my own mother. Being her only daughter, I had been her confidant. Back then, it had gotten a little irritating, but now I would give almost anything to speak to her again.

Maybe if Jackie and I stuck together, the rest of this awful year would be that much easier.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

It _did_ get a little better for me after that. Where Mickey and Geronimo couldn't get me to do things, Jackie usually could. That's not to say that all my problems ended and I was suddenly well again, because I most certainly wasn't. But there's something about being fussed at by a mother that makes you want to try a little harder, especially when you know that she needs you as much as you need her.

I had to take care of Geronimo. I had to take care of Jackie.

To do both, I had to take care of myself.

Over the next month, I was able to regain a few pounds, mostly because Jackie would pitch a fit if I didn't at least _try_ to eat. She also dragged me out of the flat to go shopping, get our hair done, etc.

Despite her determination to drag me out of my slump, she respected the fact that I wouldn't always be able to dredge up the strength to pretend. Hell, she had those days too. When one or both of us had an 'off-day', we would usually spend it in front of the TV; so at least we weren't wallowing alone.

She even started to warm up to Geronimo, whom she initially loathed, claiming that mice had 'no business being welcome in a house'. Obviously, Geronimo's presence was non-negotiable. He was my pet. He was staying. Period.

Mickey started coming by more often, too, though usually not when Jackie was around. When they did cross paths, Jackie was cordial, if not a little snippy. While she didn't think he was responsible for Rose's disappearance, he _had_ cheated on her daughter. Mickey _hated_ the cover story, but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut, as the alternative was much worse.

A new normal developed, and somewhere in the midst of it all, there was a knock at my door.

Jackie and Mickey didn't bother to knock anymore, so I was a little cautious. I opened the door to see a man with a narrow face and sandy brown in a dark military suit and red beret.

He didn't seem particularly threatening, but I squared my shoulders and let my expression default to neutral, unsure of how I would have to play my cards. "Hello?"

"Miss Buffy Reid?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm Private Anderson. I represent the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce." He slipped his hand into the inside breast pocket of his uniform, producing a thick, lumpy envelope. It was TARDIS blue. "I'm here to deliver a message as well as confirm your identity for UNIT records."

I frowned skeptically, thinking. "Why do you need to confirm my identity in person? Can't UNIT just look me up or whatever?"

"I believe the letter will clarify, ma'am. But I can't release it to you without confirmation"

Still wary, I folded my arms across my chest. "Alright. How do I do that?"

"I've been given a question to ask you. One that only you and the person who gave me it would understand."

"But they're letting someone else ask me the question," I pointed out. "So now you know both the question and the answer."

"I know the answer, but I'm afraid that I don't have the context."

"Mm. What is it?"

"Who was the fifth?"

I blinked at him blankly for a second, trying to figure out what the hell that meant. A question that only I could answer?

_Oh._

"Peter Davison!" I blurted eagerly. _Of course_ that would be the right question to ask. _Doctor Who_ didn't exist here, so I was the only one who could ever have that information.

 _Genius,_ really.

"Correct, ma'am." Private Yates smiled and held out the envelope. "I believe this is yours."

I readily took it and weighed it in my hands. It was fairly light, effectively a regular envelope with something _almost_ too big for it stuffed inside.

Private Anderson saluted and said goodbye. I closed the door, no longer interested in him. The letter was burning between my hands, which were shaking - with excitement or anxiety, I couldn't tell you. My thoughts were running wild, spinning theory after theory as to who it might be from.

The Doctor had sent out envelopes like this when he thought he was dying in The Impossible Astronaut, but I couldn't imagine him sending one to me - and even if he would, it didn't make sense to send it now.

The other Doctor - my Doctor, Nine - might've sent something, but sending it though UNIT didn't add up.

Jack wouldn't send a letter. He would just show up.

There were others, but I hadn't met any of them yet, if I would at all. So who?

Only one way to find out.

I peeled the envelope open carefully and pulled out its contents one by one: a debit card, a business card, a letter, and an object wrapped in a midnight-blue silk cloth.

I unwrapped the object first. It was made of black leather and about the size of a wallet, double sided with a control panel and buttons; made to be worn on the wrist.

It was a day of surprises, and I'd been conditioning myself over the last five months to not expect the extraordinary as I had while I was with the Doctor, and despite having my laptop, I hadn't watched _Doctor Who_ in over a year - as it either stressed me out to know what was coming or was a painful reminder of being ejected from the lifestyle.

Needless to say, it took me longer than it should to recognize a vortex manipulator when I saw one.

I _really_ needed to brush up on _Doctor Who_ trivia.

I put it aside with shaking hands and opened the letter. It was handwritten in red ink.

It read:

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_Dear Myself,_

_Out of all the people to get a letter from, I can't believe you didn't think of me._

_Is it really that surprising?_

_It's been a long time, but I remember when I was you. It sucked. Like, a lot. Unfortunately, it's going to get worse before it gets better. And then it'll get worse again. But eventually - in the end - you'll be okay._

_So until then: Suck it up. Eat a fucking sandwich. Give Geronimo a kiss for me._

_I know you have a lot of questions, and like the bitch we are, I'm not really going to answer them. All I'm going to tell you about this me is that_

_1.) I'm older than you (obviously)._

_2.) I no longer go by Buffy Reid (because reasons - but the point is that the name's all yours) ._

_3.) I carry a lot of weight at UNIT._

_No, you are not allowed to ask them any questions about me. They won't tell you anyway. (Remember: until you're me, I outrank you.)_

_By now you've realized that this letter comes with a vortex manipulator, which is why I had someone from UNIT deliver it personally instead of just sending it through the mail._

_Yes, it's yours. It'll be awhile before you really need to be comfortable with using it, but it's good to have it with you in case of emergencies (hint hint), so just stick in your bag until it's necessary. The coordinate system it uses is very similar to the TARDIS (but a little simpler), so you shouldn't have too much trouble with it._

_Spoilers aside, you ARE going to need it pretty soon. The coordinates you're going to need are 17:18 72/15/63._

_You'll know when to use them._

_I've also enclosed an actual debit card for you to use (I know how you hate using the psychic credit card). We have several accounts at different banks. The account that this card is to is where your UNIT paycheck will be sent. I took the liberty of depositing a decent sum into it, so you don't have to wait for your first paycheck to start using it._

_Paycheck, you ask? Yeah. You're UNIT's newest Strategic Advisor. Relatively low level, of course, for the moment. I can get you in the front door, but technically we are two separate people right now, so you're going to have to climb the ladder yourself._

_Captain Hugh Abbott is going to be your UNIT liaison. I've known him for quite a while. He's trustworthy and not all that annoying. You'll get along fine. His contact info is also enclosed, and he's expecting to hear from you shortly._

_Don't stress over it too much. It'll be fun. And anyway, it's not like you're doing anything else right now._

_Love,_

_You_

_  
P.S. Check your email._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

I reread the letter three times, struggling to process it all. My future self? UNIT Strategic Advisor? A vortex manipulator?

Like I said earlier, I'd been trying to get used to a _normal_ life. I was doing _better_. And yet…

A single letter, and I felt more alive than I had in months.

My mind was actually working again: spinning out possible scenarios where I'd need a vortex manipulator, the things I could do at UNIT, why the hell the future me was living in the same time period as my past self…

Seriously, why 2005?

For the first time in ages, I was excited about the future. I tipped my head back and laughed, because _I had a future_.

Riding on the high of a potential adventure, I did as my future self instructed and checked my email.

I hadn't checked it since I originally left with the Doctor, nor had I a reason to. There weren't many people who would want to get in touch with me, and those who did certainly wouldn't do so through email.

There were nine unread messages. Two were spam. Seven were from Clive.

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _


	29. Misadventures in Purgatory - Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes: Hey, guys! Long time no see. Got out of the DW mood and starred hyperfixating on the Mandalorian again. Which is cool if you like the Mandalorian, bc I've got two Mandalorian fics started.
> 
> One is just a side fic and is less complicated, as far as my stories go. Its called ‘Between Rivers’.
> 
> The other is more complex and more equitable to this story. Its called ‘Where the Roses Grow’.
> 
> So you know, go check those out if you like the Mandalorian. I'd love some feedback from people who've read some of my other stuff.
> 
> Anyway, here's this update. Its not my best work, but it gets the ball rolling again. 
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Some self-depreciation

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Chapter Twenty Nine: Misadventures in Purgatory** _

_**Part Two** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

"You sure you've thought this through?" Mickey bitched for the upteenth time. "You've only met him the once an'—"

A sigh hissed between my teeth, effectively cutting him off. He scoffed. Mickey's yellow car bumped over a pothole as we turned a corner, heading further and further away from London.

"I'm just sayin'," he went on, "the last time I drove someone to meet this bloke, I got kidnapped by a livin' plastic monster and eaten by a trash bin. I think I've got a right to be concerned."

"You didn't have to come," I pointed out, chewing absently at my thumbnail and gazing out at the changing landscape as the spaces between buildings slowly stretched to make room for trees and pastures. "I would've been fine."

Outside of my travels with the Doctor, I had never really been out of London. It was interesting, in a mundane sort of way, the way the close-knit suburbs just seemed to drop away into small towns and rolling pastures. Back home, our urban sprawl _sprawled_ , eating away into rural space like an invasive parasite taking root under the cover of trees and big yards.

"I couldn't just let you go on your own," he grumbled, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

"I've investigated stuff on my own before, you know."I folded my arms across my chest. There were more important things to think about.

Christmas was looming, and I was still worrying over what to get Jackie. After following her around while she shopped for the last few months, I had made an exhaustive list of options, but none of it seemed to even begin to make up for the fact that this was going to be her first Christmas without Rose.

"And this time we ain't even goin' to his place!" He burst out. "We gotta go out into the middle of bleedin' nowhere! Couldn't he have just sent you what he found, and then you solve it from the Estate?"

I intoned a sigh. Not that I didn't appreciate Mickey's worry, as Clive's emails hadn't exactly been insightful - limited to mentions of vague disappearances and a place and time to meet. If it had been almost anyone else, I probably would be taking more precautions. But Clive was Clive, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least curious to see what he'd found. On top of that, I was itching to learn about the events of the Auton invasion.

"It's this next left, I think." I sat up a little straighter so as to peer through the overgrown hedges for a glimpse of faded red wood. "Yeah, there at the sign."

The car slowed. We turned down a narrow dirt road that led through fields of tall grass that shivered in the midwinter breeze. The chipped red sign reared into view. In white letters on faded red splinters, it read:

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**Historic Ainsley House** _

_**And Inn** _

_**Est. 1745** _

_**Low Rates. Tours. Breakfast Included.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

1745\. When the house reared into view, it looked like what you'd expect from an English Estate turned Inn. Once upon a time, it had been a fine stone house with neat trim and healthy gardens, built for a suitably well-off family.

I'd done some research on my phone during the drive, and had learned that it had been built by a merchant named George Ainsley that had done fairly well for himself. It still belonged to the Ainsley family, who had fallen on hard times in the last 120 years or so. To keep from losing their family home, they'd rented out rooms, and thus the Inn was born. Later, they'd taken a deal with some historical society or another to help pay for its upkeep.

If I were a representative of that society, I'd want my money back. The gardens were dismally overgrown. Ivy crawled up the side and bit into the masonry, picking the place apart one grain of sand at a time. Although it could be considered kind of homey, if not charming, it was the kind of place that kids (and more subtly - adults) would think to be haunted. I'd read a little lore on the place, and the combination of ghost stories and whatever Clive had dug up made the possibility very real.

So thank God we were staying here tonight, right?

Mickey parked in the flattened grass beside three other cars. I spotted Clive sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch, exactly where he'd said he'd be. Despite having already known that Clive was still alive, my heart couldn't help but leap at seeing him. Despite all the shit I'd gone through, I'd at least managed to do one good thing.

I all but leapt out of the car, ignoring Mickey's protests. By the time I rounded the side of the car and was in Clive's line of sight, I had curtailed my enthusiasm and forced myself to take measured, pensive steps. Outwardly, I was a professional alien investigator, all save for grinning like an idiot.

"Good to see you again, Clive," I said, grasping the hand he offered me warmly. "How you been?"

"You too, an' good." He was exactly as I remembered him; tall and rotund with a kind face and dark curls. "For the most part."

Mickey scuffled up to loom behind me, doing his best to look tough. I suppressed a smirk.

"This is Mickey. He's a friend of mine. Mickey, Clive."

Clive, friendly as ever, stuck out his hand for Mickey to shake. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes when Mickey made a show of considering before actually taking it. His brow furrowed a little, but Clive didn't otherwise comment on Mickey's attempt at hostility.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "Well, I'm here. Now, are you gonna tell me what this is about?"

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

" _Are there really aliens in Area 51?.”_

" _Depends on your perspective."_

" _What's that supposed to mean?" I frowned and crossed my arms, leaning back into the jump seat._

_We'd only just gotten back from a trip to the apple orchards of Applaach, a small world completely covered in apple trees that was responsible for all the apples sold on that side of the galaxy._

_It hadn't been nearly as boring as it had sounded, though I would've been entertained by almost anything. After eighteen years of living in the same little town on Earth, literally any change in scenery was welcome, especially if it included a peaceful afternoon strolling underneath an open sky and enjoying the fresh autumn breeze._

_The Doctor rolled his shoulders nonchalantly as he fiddled with the TARDIS controls, setting the machine into motion. "Everything's a matter of perspective."_

" _If you don't know, just say you don't know."_

" _I didn't say that!" The Time Lord retorted, somewhat offended. "I just happen to be one of the leading experts in the history of Earth-Extraterrestrial Interrelationships, thank you very much."_

" _So you DO know."_

_The Doctor opened his mouth, paused for a moment to think, then closed it again. I grinned as he scoffed and moodily straightened his leather jacket. "What are you asking me for, anyway?"_

" _Why am I asking the 'leading expert in the history of Earth-Extraterrestrial Interrelationships'?"_

" _Well, I can't know everything, can I?"_

_I shrugged and came up beside him to rest my elbows on the console. He continued pressing buttons, sulking. I bumped him playfully with my hip and he responded by elbowing me lightly in the side._

" _You could always just look it up for yourself," the Doctor pointed out, mood improved._

" _Easier to ask." I rested my chin on his arm, gazing up at him imploringly._

"' _Easier to ask'," he mocked. "How do you expect to learn anythin' if you wait for other people to tell ya'?"_

_I pinched his side in rebuke. "Mean. The stuff I do know, I learned on my own. You remember how awful the American 21st century education system is, right?"_

" _Fair. So what do you know?"_

_I shrugged. "Whatever an average intelligence human can get her hands on and… you know…. comprehend."_

" _Give yourself some credit. You're above average intelligence." He paused, then added, "For a human."_

" _Thanks," I scoffed._

" _Intelligence isn't in knowing the facts," the Time Lord pointed out. "It's in the ability to synthesize what you know and find a solution."_

" _Some of my teachers used to say stuff like that", I complained, unconvinced, "right before they gave us some stupid assignment that didn't help at all."_

_A sly grin spread across his face, but was quickly wiped away by what the Doctor probably imagined was the expression of an all-knowing professor - which was amusing, considering that his angular features, leather jacket, and close-cropped hair screamed anything but._

" _Alright then, Miss Reid. Your assignment today is both unnecessary and slightly ridiculous, but given your experience, should be fairly simple."_

_I groaned, struggling to mask a smile while the Time Lord yanked at a lever with a flourish, causing the TARDIS to buck sideways and change directions._

_I snagged onto the console. "Where are we going?"_

" _Exactly!"_

_He wouldn't say anything else about it for the duration of the trip. He was grinning, though, and extremely pleased with himself - which hopefully meant it wouldn't be too bad._

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

Clive's research was thorough. The room he occupied was covered with printed articles, missing person flyers, police reports, etc. There were stacks on the bed, the bedside tables, the counter.

I settled down on one of the chairs at the table and let him give it to me piece by piece, at which point I would skim while he summarized for me.

Disappearances - a lot of them, each separated by approximately 5 to 10 years - going back almost 200 years. There was an overlying theme of the person staying at the Ainsley House for a day or two, checking out, and never being heard from again. In recent decades, the individual's car and personal effects would show up a town or two over, but from there all leads went cold.

I shuffled absently through the bios that Clive had already pieced together. Although they'd all disappeared without a trace, the police usually settled on one conclusion.

Mickey voiced what my mind was already chewing on. "What if they just wanted to disappear?" He thumped the old newspaper he'd been reading. "Like this bloke, he'd racked up some serious debt. An' this one had just lost his job. And another: just divorced and his wife got it all."

I nibbled at my thumb thoughtfully. "Mm. Maybe, but I don't think so. It's too regular, and it's happened too many times."

"So I was right?" Clive pressed. He was sitting on the edge of the musty old bed that would look more at home in a museum than an inn. When he leaned forward, the springs beneath him wailed. "There is somethin' here. I was right to contact you?"

I shuffled the papers in my hands. "It's definitely weird, I'll give you that."

"But that doesn't make it alien, does it?" Mickey put in. "It couldn't just be like, some kind of under the table business deal? Pay someone off an' they help you disappear?"

"For over two hundred years?" Clive scoffed defensively. He was clearly used to having people laugh at his ideas, and despite the potential danger, I hoped this would be a genuine alien mystery, just so he would at least feel a little validated.

Mickey shrugged. "Family business?"

"I won't rule it out," I conceded, "but it's worth looking into, at least."

Mickey shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. He was jumpy as hell, but covering for it with crankiness. He'd only met aliens himself once, and it wasn't a pleasant experience. Since then, he'd grilled me for other stories about my encounters, and those sounded a lot like horror stories. Now, faced with the prospect of _living_ one of those stories wasn't nice at all.

"So what now, then?" He groused.

"You go downstairs and get us rooms," I said brightly.

The rest of the blood drained out of Mickey's already pale face. "What for?"

I quirked an eyebrow. "Well, I mean, we could stay here with Clive, but there's only one bed, and I don't think I'm in the mood to deal with _that_ trope today. It would be a tight fit, wouldn't it?"

Clive chuckled and Mickey's face turned red.

Mickey pressed on. "I mean, we're staying here? The place where people have been going missing?"

I frowned. "Yeah? Wasn't that always the idea?"

"Yeah… but…" He scuffled his shoe. "But then shouldn't we be stayin' together?"

He didn't want to wander around the house by himself. Understandable.

"The other rooms are right beside this one," I reassured him. "And I don't think any of us will be a target now. Remember the others? They were traveling alone. We've got a group to hold any kidnappers accountable."

He opened his mouth to protest.

I cut him off with a sigh. "No one's going to try anything during the day, anyway. You're fine to go down to the lobby."

He closed his mouth, looking a bit sheepish. Grumbling to himself, Mickey left the room, presumably to do as I'd asked.

Finally alone, Clive and I had the chance to talk. It was a conversation long overdue. I should've checked on him before, should've made sure he'd survived. But to be honest, my mind had been in the gutter for so long that I had forgotten him entirely. If he knew this, he didn't seem to mind.

We were silent for a few moments. I knew he had questions. I waited for them, surprised to find myself dreading them.

I didn't want to talk about the Doctor. The only person I'd mentioned him to was Mickey, but that had been through the lense of Rose; who he was to her, was he dangerous to her, when he would bring her home, etc.

This conversation wouldn't have that padding.

"At first, I didn't know what to think," Clive started slowly. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "But I figured there was no harm in staying at home, not going out at night. When my wife wanted to go shopping, I talked her into stayin' at home. She thought I was being paranoid, but then came the attacks."

"The Autons. I'm glad you're all okay," I said earnestly. "Really."

"I tried to contact you again," he went on, "but heard nothin' back. Honest, I just thought I'd count myself lucky and let you just stay a mystery. But then I noticed the pattern of disappearances. I knew the police wouldn't believe me, and I didn't know who else to tell."

"You did the right thing." I guestered to the papers with a wave of my hand. "And this is all really good. I _do_ think there's something fishy here. No one else would've noticed, but you did."

"So I was right, weren't I?" He pressed. "You know things. About the Doctor. About aliens."

"Yeah."

His eyes were wide and pleading. "Who is he, then? You can tell me. I swear I won't spread it around. It's just- I've got to know."

"He's an alien," I said, clamping down hard on my own emotions, fighting not to feel. My voice was empty. Cold. "A Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. He travels around the universe in a little blue box that's bigger on the inside and can travel pretty much anywhere in time and space. He's about 900 years old now, and can change his face instead of dying when he's hurt."

I said it all in a rush, ripping off the bandaid and pretending not to notice the sting. Just hearing myself talk about him like that reminded me how wonderful it all was - how wonderful _he_ was - and I suddenly remembered that I had been ejected from that life.

It threw me out. _He_ threw me out.

 _What the hell am I doing?_ I internally screamed. _I don't belong here!_

Who was I to solve mysteries? That was the Doctor's job! I wasn't the Doctor, I was the assistant. And not even a _good_ assistant. He'd gotten rid of me, hadn't he? I hadn't been cut out for it, and he'd _fired_ me before someone got hurt.

If someone died here, it would be on me. It would be my incompetence that killed them. They would die because the _reject_ thought she could play _Time Lord._

Ignorant to my sudden downward spiral, Clive took a minute to digest the flood of information I'd given him.

"It's true," he chuckled wetly to himself. "The man with more than one face. He's real."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry from upwelling panic. My voice cracked, but it was barely noticeable, "Yeah. He's real."

A slow, almost manic grin spread across his features. "Autons, you said. And aliens. How do you know all this? How do you fit into it all?"

"Sometimes the Doctor takes people with him." I wasn't able to keep the bitterness out of my voice. I focused determinedly on my hands. My nails were jagged and rough from where I'd been biting them. "Friends. Companions. People to share adventures with. I'm… I _used_ to be one of them."

This time, Clive didn't miss the emotion barely concealed in my words. He frowned, lines scrunching between his eyebrows.

"Used to?"

_**.** _

_**~0~0~0~** _

_Princess Meriweth was sitting on a bench in the main hall with a blanket draped around her shoulders. A royal medic was dabbing carefully at her neck, covering the affected area with a special kind of gauze that sealed the wound nearly as well as stitches. She looked up as the Doctor and I passed and motioned the medic away._

" _Madame Reid?" I stopped to face her while the Doctor ambled a few steps further down the hall, pausing at a framed oil painting to pretend he was noticing the finer details._

" _How're you feeling?" I asked, eyeing the place on her neck. Almost having your throat slit by a moody Zygon pretending to be your sister wasn't something you got over quickly. "Shouldn't you be on your way to a hospital?"_

" _I'm alright." A shy smile graced her lips. "Though I wouldn't be if it weren't for you."_

" _Ah, well," I responded, awkwardly brushing a strand of hair from my face. Usually it was the Doctor who got the 'thank you for saving my life' talks. The only thing I could think to do was try and copy what he usually did. "You're alright now. That's what matters."_

_Her smile widened, though there was a touch of sadness to it. "So I guess that means you're leaving, Duchess of The Western Reach."_

" _Uh, yeah… about that-"_

_She cut me off. "Don't suppose I'll be seeing you again?"_

" _Probably not, no." I pushed my hands into my coat pockets and smiled fondly at her, unprepared for what she did next._

_Her lips collided with mine roughly, her fingers tangling in my hair and tongue slipping past my lips, kissing me thoroughly. Caught completely off guard, I stood there stiffly, not really responding until the last few seconds. I dimly heard the Doctor give an exasperated huff, but chose to ignore him._

_The Princess pulled away, leaving my lips tingling. She smiled shyly. "Be safe, yeah?"_

" _Uh- yeah. Er… I'll do my best…" With that I smiled nervously and, still in a daze, stumbled over to where the Doctor was waiting._

_The Doctor gave me a look that said 'not bad' as I caught up with him, wiggling his eyebrows in amusement._

" _Shut up," I grumbled, fidgeting with the hem of my evening gown._

" _Enjoying yourself?" The Doctor quipped, looking smug as we continued out of the castle and into the gardens, heading in the direction of the TARDIS._

" _Give me a break." Heat radiated from me and I knew I was as red as a tomato. "I think it's the dress."_

_He rolled his eyes. "Just about every time we land, you've got some poor ape larkin' about trying to get your attention."_

_I realized that this was him messing with me, but I couldn't help but bite. "What? Who?"_

" _Well," he mused, "the first I noticed was that girl from China, what's her name. Pei-Pei."_

_I blushed, remembering her dark expressive eyes and lovely pink lips._

" _Then there was bloody Ching-Shih, of all people. Or did you think she brought you on as her assistant for your skills as a pirate?"_

_My blush deepened and I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly as I recalled certain, private hours in Ching-Shih's cabin during the deepest parts of the night._

_The Doctor glanced around, caught sight of my expression, and gave an exasperated sigh before continuing his list. "And then there was that nurse on Aronish, the Dame of Pinera Eleven and her brother, the stable hand in France. And remember-"_

" _Okay, Okay"! I cried, slapping my hands over my ears. "I get it!"_

_The Doctor barked out a laugh, poking me playfully in the ribs. I squirmed and batted his hand away, unable to stop myself from joining in his good humor._

" _But not guys? Do I just attract lesbians?"_

" _Blokes too," he conceded, slipping his TARDIS key into the lock, "The Prince of Aronish asked me if you were available, but I told him to bugger off."_

" _What? Why?"_

_He sniffed. "Don't give me that look. I was doin' you a favor. Do you remember how bloody awful his teeth were? Imagine snoggin' that."_

_I snorted at the memory of the snaggle-toothed Prince. "Fair enough."_

" _There were other blokes too," he continued matter-of-factly as he began fiddling with buttons and levers,"but most of 'em find you intimidating."_

" _Intimidating how?"_

" _Dunno. Short woman with a knife on her 24/7? Bloody terrifying."_

_I laughed "Do you think I'm scary, Doctor?"_

_The Doctor glanced over at me. I didn't know why, but the intense look in his eyes made me shiver. I wanted him to look at me like that forever._

_He nodded solemnly. "Absolutely."_

_**~0~0~0~** _

_**.** _

"Yeah," I said curtly. "Used to."


End file.
